^TORIES  OF 

3  INVENTORS 


RIMS 


DOUBLEDAY 

j^-uiiis-'*- 


LIBRARY 

OF    THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 
OMS 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 


BOOKS  BY 
RUSSELL  DOUBLEDAY 

A  GUNNER  ABOARD  THE  "YANKEE" 
CATTLE  RANCH  TO  COLLEGE 
A  YEAR  IN  A  YAWL 
STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 


THE  TRUE  ADVENTURE   SERIES 


L 


STORIES  OF 
INVENTORS 

THE  ADVENTURES  OF 
INVENTORS  AND  ENGINEERS. 

TRUE  INCIDENTS  AND 
PERSONAL  EXPERIENCES 


RUSVSELL  DOUBLEDA5T 


NEW 

DOUBLEDAY  PAGE  fcr  CO. 
i    9     o     5 


Copyright,  1904,  by 

Doubleday,  Page  &  Company 

Published,  September,  1904 


/.  M.  D. 


<*•  Of 

fV^  «w- 


ACKNOWLEDGMENT 

The  author  and  publishers  take  pleasure  in  acknowledging 
the  courtesy  of 

The  Scientific  American 

The  'Book lovers  Magazine 

The  Holiday  Magazine,  and 

Messrs.  Wood  &  Nathan  Company 
for  the  use  of  a  number  of  illustrations  in  this  book. 

From  The  Scientific  American,  illustrations  facing  pages  16, 
48,  78,  80,  88,  94,  118,  126,  142,  and  162. 

From  The  Booklovers  Magazine,  illustrations  facing  pages 
184,  190,  194,  and  196. 

From  The  Holiday  Magazine,  illustrations  facing  pages  100 
and  no. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

How   Guglielmo  Marconi    Telegraphs    Without 

Wires  *        .        .        ,   '     .        .        ,        i 

Santos-Dumont  and  His  Air-Ship      ...      27 
How  a  Fast  Train  Is  Run        .        .        .        .51 

How  Automobiles  Work 67 

The  Fastest  Steamboats 85 

The  Life-Savers  and  Their  Apparatus       .        -97 
Moving    Pictures — Some    Strange    Subjects    and 

How  They  Were  Taken    '..'      .        *        •     "3 
Bridge   Builders   and   Some  of    Their  Achieve- 
ments ...        .        .        .         .        -131 

Submarines   in   War  and   Peace        .         .        .153 
Long-Distance  Telephony— What  Happens  When 

You  Talk    into  a  Telephone  Receiver        .     181 
A     Machine     That     Thinks— A     Type-Setting 
Machine  That  Makes  Mathematical  Calcula- 
tions .      j.        .     -  .     ••.:..        ...     199 

How  Heat  Produces  Cold — Artificial  Ice-Making    209 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Marconi  Reading  a  Message        .        .  Frontispiece 

FACING  PACK 

Marconi  Station  at  Wellfleet,  Massachusetts       6 

The  Wireless  Telegraph  Station  at  Glace* 
Bay.        . 16 

Santos-Dumont  Preparing  for  a  Flight      .     30 
Rounding  the  Eiffel  Tower       .         .         .40 

The  Motor  and  Basket  of  "Santos-Dumont 
No.  9"    . 48 

Firing  a  Fast  Locomotive    .         .         .         -54 

Track  Tank 60 

Railroad  Semaphore  Signals       .         .         .60 

Thirty    Years'    Advance    in    Locomotive 
Building 64 

The  "  Lighthouse "  of  the  Rail    .  .  .72 

A  Giant  Automobile  Mower-Thrasher  .     78 

An  Automobile  Buckboard        ,  .  .80 

An  Automobile  Plow         <        v  .  .84 

The  Velox,  of  the  British  Navy  .  .88 

The  Engines  of  the  Arrow       .  .  .     94 

A  Life-Saving  Crew  Drilling      .  .  .  100 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS— Continued 

PACING  PAG* 

Life-Savers  at  Work  .  v  ^  .  .no 
Biograph  Pictures  of  a  Military  Hazing  .  118 
Developing  Moving-Picture  Films  .  .126 
Building  an  American  Bridge  in  Burmah  134 
Viaduct  Across  Canyon  Diablo  .  .  .142 

Beginning   an   American    Bridge   in    Mid- 
Africa      .         ...         .         .         .150 

Lake's  Submarine  Torpedo-Boat  Protector  162 
Speeding  at  the  Rate  of  102  Miles  an  Hour  168 
Singing  Into  the  Telephone  .  .  .176 
"Central"  Telephone  Operators  at  Work  184 
Central  Making  Connections  »  .  .190 
The  Back  of  a  Telephone  Switchboard  .  194 
A  Few  Telephone  Trunk  Wires  .  .196 
The  Lanston  Type-Setter  Keyboard  .  200 
Where  the  "Brains"  are  Located  .  .  206 

The   Type   Moulds   and    the   Work   They 
Produce  .  210 


INTRODUCTION 

THERE  are  many  thrilling  incidents — all  the 
more  attractive  because  of  their  truth — in 
the  study,  the  trials,  the  disappointments,  the 
obstacles  overcome,  and  the  final  triumph  of  the 
successful  inventor. 

Every  great  invention,  afterward  marvelled 
at,  was  first  derided.  Each  great  inventor, 
after  solving  problems  in  mechanics  or  chemistry, 
had  to  face  the  jeers  of  the  incredulous. 

The  story  of  James  Watt's  sensations  when 
the  driving-wheels  of  his  first  rude  engine 
began  to  revolve  will  never  be  told;  the  visions 
of  Robert  Fulton,  when  he  puffed  up  the  Hudson, 
of  the  fleets  of  vessels  that  would  follow  the 
faint  track  of  his  little  vessel,  can  never  be  put 
in  print. 

It  is  the  purpose  of  this  book  to  give,  in  a 
measure,  the  adventurous  side  of  invention. 
The  trials  and  dangers  of  the  builders  of  the 
submarine;  the  triumphant  thrill  of  the  in- 
ventor who  hears  for  the  first  time  the  vibration 
of  the  long-distance  message  through  the  air; 
xi 


INTRODUCTION 

the  daring  and  tension  of  the  engineer  who  drives 
a  locomotive  at  one  hundred  miles  an  hour. 

The  wonder  of  the  mechanic  is  lost  in  the 
marvel  of  the  machine ;  the  doer  is  overshadowed 
by  the  greatness  of  his  achievement. 

These  are  true  stories  of  adventure  in  inven- 
tion. 


xn 


HOW  GUGLIELMO  MARCONI  TELE- 
GRAPHS WITHOUT  WIRES 


'   Or  TMt 

{  UNIVERSITY  ) 

or 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

HOW  GUGLIELMO  MARCONI  TELE- 
GRAPHS WITHOUT  WIRES 

A  NINETEEN- YEAR-OLD  boy,  just  a  quiet, 
-*•*•  unobtrusive  young  fellow,  who  talked  little 
but  thought  much,  saw  in  the  discovery  of  an 
older  scientist  the  means  of  producing  a  revolu- 
tionising invention  by  which  nations  could  talk 
to  nations  without  the  use  of  wires  or  tangible 
connection,  no  matter  how  far  apart  they  might 
be  or  by  what  they  might  be  separated.  The 
possibilities  of  Guglielmo  (William)  Marconi's 
invention  are  just  beginning  to  be  realised,  and 
what  it  has  already  accomplished  would  seem 
too  wonderful  to  be  true  if  the  people  of  these 
marvellous  times  were  not  almost  surfeited 
with  wonders. 

It  is  of  the  boy  and  man  Marconi  that  this 
chapter  will  tell,  and  through  him  the  story  of 
his  invention,  for  the  personality,  the  talents, 
and  the  character  of  the  inventor  made  wireless 
telegraphy  possible. 

3 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

It  was  an  article  in  an  electrical  journal  de- 
scribing the  properties  of  the  "Hertzian  waves" 
that  suggested  to  young  Marconi  the  possibility 
of  sending  messages  from  one  place  to  another 
without  wires.  Many  men  doubtless  read  the 
same  article,  but  all  except  the  young  Italian 
lacked  the  training,  the  power  of  thought,  and 
the  imagination,  first  to  foresee  the  great  things 
that  could  be  accomplished  through  this  dis- 
covery, and  then  to  study  out  the  mechanical 
problem,  and  finally  to  steadfastly  push  the 
work  through  to  practical  usefulness. 

It  would  seem  that  Marconi  was  not  the  kind 
of  boy  to  produce  a  revolutionising  invention, 
for  he  was  not  in  the  least  spectacular,  but,  on 
the  contrary,  almost  shy,  and  lacking  in  the 
aggressive  enthusiasm  that  is  supposed  to  mark 
the  successful  inventor;  quiet  determination 
was  a  strong  characteristic  of  the  young  Italian, 
and  a  studious  habit  which  had  much  to  do 
with  the  great  results  accomplished  by  him  at 
so  early  an  age. 

He  was  well  equipped  to  grapple  with  the 
mighty  problem  which  he  had  been  the  first 
to  conceive,  since  from  early  boyhood  he  had 
made  electricity  his  chief  study,  and  a  com- 
fortable income  saved  him  from  the  grind- 
ing struggle  for  bare  existence  that  many 
4 


TELEGRAMS   WITHOUT  WIRES 

inventors  have  had  to  endure.  Although  born 
in  Bologna  (in  1874)  and  bearing  an  Italian 
name,  Marconi  is  half  Irish,  his  mother  being  a 
native  of  Britain.  Having  been  educated  in 
Bologna,  Florence,  and  Leghorn,  Italy's  schools 
may  rightly  claim  to  have  had  great  influence 
in  the  shaping  of  his  career.  Certain  it  is,  in 
any  case,  that  he  was  well  educated,  especially 
in  his  chosen  branch. 

Marconi,  like  many  other  inventors,  did  not 
discover  the  means  by  which  the  end  was 
accomplished;  he  used  the  discovery  of  other 
men,  and  turned  their  impractical  theories  and 
inventions  to  practical  uses,  and,  in  addition, 
invented  many  theories  of  his  own. 


who  does  old  things  in  a  new  way,  or 
makes  new  uses  of  old  inventions,  is  the  one  who 
achieves  great  things.  And  so  it  was  the  read- 
ing of  the  discovery  of  Hertz  that  started  the 
boy  on  the  train  of  thought  and  the  series  of 
experiments  that  ended  with  practical,  every- 
day telegraphy  without  the  use  of  wires.  To 
begin  with,  it  is  necessary  to  give  some  idea  of 
the  medium  that  carries  the  wireless  messages. 
It  is  known  that  all  matter,  even  the  most 
compact  and  solid  of  substances,  is  permeated 
by  what  is  called  ether,  and  that  the  vibrations 
that  make  light,  heat,  and  colour  are  carried 
5 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

by  this  mysterious  substance  as  water  carries 
the  wave  motions  on  its  surface.  This  strange 
substance,  ether,  which  pervades  everything, 
surrounds  everything,  and  penetrates  all  things, 
is  mysterious,  since  it  cannot  be  seen  nor  felt, 
nor  made  known  to  the  human  senses  in  any  way  ; 
colourless,  odourless,  and  intangible  in  every 
way,  its  properties  are  only  known  through  the 
things  that  it  accomplishes  that  are  beyond  the 
powers  of  the  known  elements.  Ether  has  been 
compared  by  one  writer  to  jelly  which,  filling  all 
space,  serves  as  a  setting  for  the  planets,  moons, 
and  stars,  and,  in  fact,  all  solid  substances ;  and 
as  a  bowl  of  jelly  carries  a  plum,  so  all  solid 
things  float  in  it. 

Heinrich  Hertz  discovered  that  in  addition 
to  the  light,  heat,  and  colour  waves  carried  by 
ether,  this  substance  also  served  to  carry 
electric  waves  or  vibrations,  so  that  electric 
impulses  could  be  sent  from  one  place  to  another 
without  the  aid  of  wires.  These  electric 
waves  have  been  named  "Hertzian  waves," 
in  honour  of  their  discoverer;  but  it  remained 
for  Marconi,  who  first  conceived  their  value,  to 
put  them  to  practical  use.  But  for  a  year  he  did 
not  attempt  to  work  out  his  plan,  thinking  that 
all  the  world  of  scientists  were  studying  the 
problem.  The  expected  did  not  happen,  how- 
6 


UNIVERSITY 

or 


TELEGRAMS   WITHOUT   WIRES 

ever.  No  news  of  wireless  telegraphy  reached 
the  young  Italian,  and  so  he  set  to  work  at 
his  father's  farm  in  Bologna  to  develop  his  idea. 

And  so  the  boy  began  to  work  out  his 
great  idea  with  a  dogged  determination  to 
succeed,  and  with  the  thought  constantly  in 
mind  spurring  him  on  that  it  was  more  than 
likely  that  some  other  scientist  was  striving 
with  might  and  main  to  gain  the  same  end. 

His  father's  farm  was  his  first  field  of  opera- 
tions, the  small  beginnings  of  experiments  that 
were  later  to  stretch  across  many  hundreds  of 
miles  of  ocean.  Set  up  on  a  pole  planted  at 
one  side  of  the  garden,  he  rigged  a  tin  box  to 
which  he  connected,  by  an  insulated  wire,  his 
rude  transmitting  apparatus.  At  the  other 
side  of  the  garden  a  corresponding  pole  with 
another  tin  box  was  set  up  and  connected  with 
the  receiving  apparatus.  The  interest  of  the 
young  inventor  can  easily  be  imagined  as  he 
sat  and  watched  for  the  tick  of  his  recording 
instrument  that  he  knew  should  come  from  the 
flash  sent  across  the  garden  by  his  companion. 
Much  time  had  been  spent  in  the  planning 
and  the  making  of  both  sets  of  instruments,  and 
this  was  the  first  test;  silent  he  waited,  his 
nerves  tense,  impatient,  eager.  Suddenly  the 
Morse  sounder  began  to  tick  and  burr-r-r;  the 
7 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

boy's  eyes  flashed,  and  his  heart  gave  an 
exultant  bound — the  first  wireless  message  had 
been  sent  and  received,  and  a  new  marvel  had 
been  added  to  the  list  of  world's  wonders. 
The  quiet  farm  was  the  scene  of  many  succeed- 
ing experiments,  the  place  having  been  put 
at  his  disposal  by  his  appreciative  father,  and 
in  addition  ample  funds  were  generously  sup- 
plied from  the  same  source.  Different  heights 
of  poles  were  tried,  and  it  was  found  that  the 
distance  could  be  increased  in  proportion  to 
the  altitude  of  the  pole  bearing  the  receiving 
and  transmitting  tin  boxes  or  "capacities" — 
the  higher  the  poles  the  greater  distance  the 
message  could  be  sent.  The  success  of  Mar- 
coni's system  depended  largely  on  his  receiving 
apparatus,  and  it  is  on  account  of  his  use  of 
some  of  the  devices  invented  by  other  men 
that  unthinking  people  have  criticised  him.  He 
adapted  to  the  use  of  wireless  telegraphy 
certain  inventions  that  had  heretofore  been 
merely  interesting  scientific  toys — curious  little 
instruments  of  no  apparent  practical  value 
until  his  eye  saw  in  them  a  contributory  means 
to  a  great  end. 

Though  Hertz  caught  the  etheric  waves  on 
a   wire   hoop    and    saw   the    answering   sparks 
jump  across  the  unjoined  ends,  there  was  no 
8 


TELEGRAMS    WITHOUT   WIRES 

way  to  record  the  flashes  and  so  read  the 
message.  The  electric  current  of  a  wireless 
message  was  too  weak  to  work  a  recording 
device,  so  Marconi  made  use  of  an  ingenious 
little  instrument  invented  by  M.  Branly,  called 
a  coherer,  to  hitch  on,  as  it  were,  the  stronger 
current  of  a  local  battery.  So  the  weak  current 
of  the  ether  waves,  aided  by  the  stronger  current 
of  the  local  circuit,  worked  the  recorder  and 
wrote  the  message  down.  The  coherer  was  a 
little  tube  of  glass  not  as  long  as  your  finger, 
and  smaller  than  a  lead  pencil,  into  each  end  of 
which  was  tightly  fitted  plugs  of  silver;  the 
plugs  met  within  a  small  fraction  of  an  inch  in 
the  centre  of  the  tube,  and  the  very  small  space 
between  the  ends  of  the  plugs  was  filled  with 
silver  and  nickel  dust  so  fine  as  to  be  almost  as 
light  as  air.  Though  a  small  instrument,  and 
more  delicate  than  a  clinical  thermometer,  it 
loomed  large  in  the  working-out  of  wireless 
telegraphy.  One  of  the  silver  plugs  of  the 
coherer  was  connected  to  the  receiving  wire, 
while  the  other  was  connected  to  the  earth 
(grounded).  To  one  plug  of  the  coherer  also 
was  joined  one  pole  of  the  local  battery,  while 
the  other  pole  was  in  circuit  with  the  other 
plug  of  the  coherer  through  the  recording 
instrument.  The  fine  dust-like  silver  and  nickel 
9 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

particles  in  the  coherer  possessed  the  quality 
of  high  resistance,  except  when  charged  by 
the  electric  current  of  the  ether  waves;  then 
the  particles  of  metal  clung  together,  cohered, 
and  allowed  of  the  passage  of  the  ether  waves' 
current  and  the  strong  current  of  the  local 
battery,  which  in  turn  actuated  the  Morse 
sounder  and  recorder.  The  difficulty  with  this 
instrument  was  in  the  fact  that  the  metal 
particles  continued  to  cohere,  unless  shaken 
apart,  after  the  ether  waves'  current  was  dis- 
continued. So  Marconi  invented  a  little  device 
which  was  in  circuit  with  the  recorder  and 
tapped  the  coherer  tube  with  a  tiny  mallet  at 
just  the  right  moment,  causing  the  particles  to 
separate,  or  decohere,  and  so  break  the  circuit 
and  stop  the  local  battery  current.  As  no 
wireless  message  could  have  been  received 
without  the  coherer,  so  no  record  or  reading 
could  have  been  made  without  the  young 
Italian's  improvement. 

In  sending  the  message  from  one  side  of  his 
father's  estate  at  Bologna  to  the  other  the 
young  inventor  used  practically  the  same 
methods  that  he  uses  to-day.  Marconi's  trans- 
mitting apparatus  consisted  of  electric  batteries, 
an  induction  coil  by  which  the  force  of  the 
current  is  increased,  a  telegrapher's  key  to 
10  *7QS 


TELEGRAMS  WITHOUT  WIRES 

make  and  break  the  circuit,  and  a  pair  of  brass 
knobs.  The  batteries  were  connected  with  the 
induction  coil,  which  in  turn  was  connected  with 
the  brass  knobs;  the  telegrapher's  key  was 
placed  between  the  battery  and  the  coil.  It 
was  the  boy  scarcely  out  of  his  teens  who 
worked  out  the  principles  of  his  system,  but 
it  took  time  and  many,  many  experiments  to 
overcome  the  obstacles  of  long-distance  wireless 
telegraphy.  The  sending  of  a  message  across 
the  garden  in  far-away  Italy  was  a  simple 
matter — the  depressed  key  completed  the  elec- 
tric circuit  created  by  a  strong  battery  through 
the  induction  coil  and  made  a  spark  jump 
between  the  two  brass  knobs,  which  in  turn 
started  the  ether  vibrating  at  the  rate  of 
three  or  four  hundred  million  times  a  minute 
from  the  tin  box  on  top  of  a  pole.  The 
vibrations  in  the  ether  circled  wider  and 
wider,  as  the  circular  waves  spread  from  the 
spot  where  a  stone  is  dropped  into  a  pool, 
but  with  the  speed  of  light,  until  they  reached 
a  corresponding  tin  box  on  top  of  a  like  pole  on 
the  other  side  of  the  garden;  this  box,  and  the 
wire  connected  with  it,  caught  the  waves,  carried 
them  down  to  the  coherer,  and,  joining  the 
current  from  the  local  battery,  a  dot  or  dash 
was  recorded;  immediately  after,  the  tapper 
ii 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

separated  the  metal  particles  in  the  coherer  and 
it  was  ready  for  the  next  series  of  waves. 

One  spark  made  a  single  dot,  a  stream  of 
sparks  the  dash  of  the  Morse  telegraphic  code. 
The  apparatus  was  crude  at  first,  and  worked 
spasmodically,  but  Marconi  knew  he  was  on  the 
right  track  and  persevered.  With  the  heighten- 
ing of  the  pole  he  found  he  could  send  farther 
without  an  increase  of  electric  power,  until 
wireless  messages  were  sent  from  one  extreme 
limit  of  his  father's  farm  to  the  other. 

It  is  hard  to  realize  that  the  young  inventor 
only  began  his  experiments  in  wireless  telegraphy 
in  1895,  and  that  it  is  scarcely  eight  years  since 
the  great  idea  first  occurred  to  him. 

After  a  year  of  experimenting  on  his  father's 
property,  Marconi  was  able  to  report  to  W.  H. 
Preece,  chief  electrician  of  the  British  postal 
system,  certain  definite  facts — not  theories,  but 
facts.  He  had  actually  sent  and  received 
messages,  without  the  aid  of  wires,  about  two 
miles,  but  the  facilities  for  further  experiment- 
ing at  Bologna  were  exhausted,  and  he  went 
to  England. 

Here  was  a  youth  (scarcely  twenty-one),  with 
a  great  invention  already  within  his  grasp — 
a  revolutionising  invention,  the  possibilities  of 
which  can  hardly  yet  be  conceived.  And  so 

12 


TELEGRAMS   WITHOUT   WIRES 

this  young  Italian,  quiet,  retiring,  unassuming, 
and  yet  possessing  Jove's  power  of  sending 
thunderbolts,  came  to  London  (in  1896), 
to  upbuild  and  link  nation  to  nation  more 
closely.  With  his  successful  experiments 
behind  him,  Marconi  was  well  received  in 
England,  and  began  his  further  work  with  all 
the  encouragement  possible.  Then  followed 
a  series  of  tests  that  were  fairly  bewildering. 
Messages  were  sent  through  brick  walls — through 
houses,  indeed — over  long  stretches  of  plain, 
and  even  through  hills,  proving  beyond  a  doubt 
that  the  etheric  electric  waves  penetrated 
everything.  For  a  long  time  Marconi  used 
modifications  of  the  tin  boxes  which  were  a 
feature  of  his  early  trials,  but  later  balloons 
covered  with  tin-foil,  and  then  a  kite  six  feet 
high,  covered  with  thin  metallic  sheets,  was 
used,  the  wire  leading  down  to  the  sending  and 
receiving  instruments  running  down  the  cord. 
With  the  kite,  signals  were  sent  eight  miles  by 
the  middle  of  1897.  Marconi  was  working  on 
the  theory  that  the  higher  the  transmitting 
and  receiving  "capacity,"  as  it  was  then  called, 
or  wire,  or  "antenna,"  the  greater  distance  the 
message  could  be  sent;  so  that  the  distance 
covered  was  only  limited  by  the  height  of  the 
transmitting  and  receiving  conductors.  This 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

theory  has  since  been  abandoned,  great  power 
having  been  substituted  for  great  height. 

Marconi  saw  that  balloons  and  kites,  the  play- 
things of  the  winds,  were  unsuitable  for  his 
purpose,  and  sought  some  more  stable  support 
for  his  sending  and  receiving  apparatus.  He 
set  up,  therefore  (in  November,  1897),  at  the 
Needles,  Isle  of  Wight,  a  120-foot  mast,  from  the 
apex  of  which  was  strung  his  transmitting  wire 
(an  insulated  wire,  instead  of  a  box,  or  large 
metal  body,  as  heretofore  used).  This  was  the 
forerunner  of  all  the  tall  spars  that  have  since 
pointed  to  the  sky,  and  which  have  been  the 
centre  of  innumerable  etheric  waves  bearing 
man's  messages  over  land  and  sea. 

With  the  planting  of  the  mast  at  the  Needles 
began  a  new  series  of  experiments  which  must 
have  tried  the  endurance  and  determination  of 
the  young  man  to  the  utmost.  A  tug  was 
chartered,  and  to  the  sixty-foot  mast  erected 
thereon  was  connected  the  wire  and  transmitting 
and  receiving  apparatus.  From  this  little  vessel 
Marconi  sent  and  received  wireless  signals  day 
after  day,  no  matter  what  the  state  of  the 
weather.  With  each  trip  experience  was  accum- 
ulated and  the  apparatus  was  improved;  the 
moving  station  steamed  farther  and  farther  out 
to  sea,  and  the  ether  waves  circled  wider  and 
14 


TELEGRAMS   WITHOUT   WIRES 

wider,  until,  at  the  end  of  two  months  of 
sea-going,  wireless  telegraphy  signals  were 
received  clear  across  to  the  mainland,  fourteen 
miles,  whereupon  a  mast  was  set  up  and  a 
station  established  (at  Bournemouth),  and  later 
eighteen  miles  away  at  Poole. 

By  the  middle  of  1898  Marconi's  wireless 
system  was  doing  actual  commercial  service  in 
reporting,  for  a  Dublin  newspaper,  the  events 
at  a  regatta  at  Kingstown,  when  about  seven 
hundred  messages  were  sent  from  a  floating 
station  to  land,  at  a  maximum  distance  of 
twenty-five  miles. 

It  was  shortly  afterward,  while  the  royal 
yacht  was  in  Cowes  Bay,  that  one  hundred 
and  fifty  messages  between  the  then  Prince  of 
Wales  and  his  royal  mother  at  Or  borne  House 
were  exchanged,  most  of  them  of  a  very  private 
nature. 

One  of  the  great  objections  to  wireless  tele- 
graphy has  been  the  inability  to  make  it  secret, 
since  the  ether  waves  circle  from  the  centre 
in  all  directions,  and  any  receiving  apparatus 
within  certain  limits  would  be  affected  by  the 
waves  just  as  the  station  to  which  the  message 
was  sent  would  be  affected  by  them.  To 
illustrate:  the  waves  radiating  from  a  stone 
dropped  into  a  still  pool  would  make  a  dead 
15 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

leaf  bob  up  and  down  anywhere  on  the  pool 
within  the  circle  of  the  waves,  and  so  the 
ether  waves  excited  the  receiving  apparatus  of 
any  station  within  the  effective  reach  of  the 
circle. 

Of  course,  the  use  of  a  cipher  code  would 
secure  the  secrecy  of  a  message,  but  Marconi 
was  looking  for  a  mechanical  device  that  would 
make  it  impossible  for  any  but  the  station  to 
which  the  message  was  sent  to  receive  it.  He 
finally  hit  upon  the  plan  of  focussing  the  ether 
waves  as  the  rays  of  a  searchlight  are  con- 
centrated in  a  given  direction  by  the  use  of  a 
reflector,  and  though  this  adaptation  of  the 
search-light  principle  was  to  a  certain  extent 
successful,  much  penetrating  power  was  lost. 
This  plan  has  been  abandoned  for  one  much  more 
ingenious  and  effective,  based  on  the  principle 
of  attunement,  of  which  more  later. 

It  was  a  proud  day  for  the  young  Italian 
when  his  receiver  at  Dover  recorded  the  first 
wireless  message  sent  across  the  British  Channel 
from  Boulogne  in  1899 — just  the  letters  V  M  and 
three  or  four  words  in  the  Morse  alphabet  of 
dots  and  dashes.  He  had  bridged  that  space 
of  stormy,  restless  water  with  an  invisible, 
intangible  something  that  could  be  neither 
seen,  felt,  nor  heard,  and  yet  was  stronger  and 
-  16 


or  THE 
UNIVERSITY 


TELEGRAMS  WITHOUT  WIRES 

surer  than  steel — a  connection  that  nothing 
could  interrupt,  that  no  barrier  could  prevent. 
The  first  message  from  England  to  France  was 
soon  followed  by  one  to  M.  Branly,  the  inventor 
of  the  coherer,  that  made  the  receiving  of  the 
message  possible,  and  one  to  the  queen  of 
Marconi's  country.  The  inventor's  march  of 
progress  was  rapid  after  this — stations  were 
established  at  various  points  all  around  the 
coast  of  England;  vessels  were  equipped  with 
the  apparatus  so  that  they  might  talk  to  the 
mainland  and  to  one  another.  England's  great 
dogs  of  war,  her  battle-ships,  fought  an  imaginary 
war  with  one  another  and  the  orders  were  flashed 
from  the  flagship  to  the  fighters,  and  from  the 
Admiral's  cabin  to  the  shore,  in  spite  of  fog  and 
great  stretches  of  open  water  heaving  between. 

A  lightship  anchored  off  the  coast  of  England 
was  fitted  with  the  Marconi  apparatus  and 
served  to  warn  several  vessels  of  impending 
danger,  and  at  last,  after  a  collision  in  the  dark 
and  fog,  saved  the  men  who  were  aboard  of  her 
by  sending  a  wireless  message  to  the  mainland 
for  help. 

From  the  very  beginning  Marconi  had  set  a 

high  standard  for  himself.     He  worked  for  an 

end  that  should  be  both  commercially  practical 

and    universal.     When    he    had    spanned    the 

17 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

Channel  with  his  wireless  messages,  he  immedi- 
ately set  to  work  to  fling  the  ether  waves  farther 
and  farther.  Even  then  the  project  of  spanning 
the  Atlantic  was  in  his  mind. 

On  the  coast  of  Cornwall,  near  Penzance, 
England,  Marconi  erected  a  great  station.  A 
forest  of  tall  poles  were  set  up,  and  from  the 
wires  strung  from  one  to  the  other  hung  a  whole 
group  of  wires  which  were  in  turn  connected 
to  the  transmitting  apparatus.  From  a  little 
distance  the  station  looked  for  all  the  world  like 
ships'  masts  that  had  been  taken  out  and 
ranged  in  a  circle  round  the  low  buildings. 
This  was  the  station  of  Poldhu,  from  which 
Marconi  planned  to  send  vibrations  in  the  ether 
that  would  reach  clear  across  to  St.  Johns, 
Newfoundland,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic 
— more  than  two  thousand  miles  away.  A 
power-driven  dynamo  took  the  place  of  the 
more  feeble  batteries  at  Poldhu,  converters  to 
increase  the  power  displaced  the  induction 
coil,  and  many  sending-wires,  or  antennae,  were 
used  instead  of  one. 

On  Signal  Hill,  at  St.  Johns,  Newfoundland — 
a  bold  bluff  overlooking  the  sea — a  group  of  men 
worked  for  several  days,  first  in  the  little  stone 
house  at  the  brink  of  the  bluff,  setting  up 
some  electric  apparatus;  and  later,  on  the  flat 
18 


TELEGRAMS   WITHOUT   WIRES 

ground  nearby,  the  same  men  were  very  busy 
flying  a  great  kite  and  raising  a  balloon.  There 
was  no  doubt  about  the  earnestness  of  these 
men:  they  were  not  raising  that  kite  for  fun. 
They  worked  with  care  and  yet  with  an  eager- 
ness that  no  boy  ever  displays  when  setting  his 
home-made  or  store  flyer  to  the  breeze.  They 
had  hard  luck:  time  and  time  again  the  wind 
or  the  rain,  or  else  the  fog,  baffled  them,  but  a 
quiet  young  fellow  with  a  determined,  thought- 
ful face  urged  them  on,  tugged  at  the  cord,  or 
held  the  kite  while  the  others  ran  with  the  line. 
Whether  Marconi  stood  to  one  side  and  directed 
or  took  hold  with  his  men,  there  was  no  doubt 
who  was  master.  At  last  the  kite  was  flying 
gallantly,  high  overhead  in  the  blue.  From  the 
sagging  kite-string  hung  a  wire  that  ran  into 
the  low  stone  house. 

One  cold  December  day  in  1901,  Guglielmo 
Marconi  sat  still  in  a  room  in  the  Government 
building  at  Signal  Hill,  St.  Johns,  Newfoundland, 
with  a  telephone  receiver  at  his  ear  and  his 
eye  on  the  clock  that  ticked  loudly  nearby. 
Overhead  flew  his  kite  bearing  his  receiving- 
wire.  It  was  12:30  o'clock  on  the  American 
side  of  the  ocean,  and  Marconi  had  ordered  his 
operator  in  far-off  Poldhu,  two  thousand  watery 
miles  away,  to  begin  signalling  the  letter  "S" — 
19 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

three  dots  of  the  Morse  code,  three  flashes  of 
the  bluish  sparks — at  that  corresponding  hour. 
For  six  years  he  had  been  looking  forward  to 
and  working  for  that  moment — the  final  test  of 
all  his  effort  and  the  beginning  of  a  new  triumph. 
He  sat  waiting  to  hear  three  small  sounds, 
the  br-br-br  of  the  Morse  code  "S,"  humming 
on  the  diaphragm  of  his  receiver — the  signature 
of  the  ether  waves  that  had  travelled  two 
thousand  miles  to  his  listening  ear.  As  the 
hands  of  the  clock,  whose  ticking  alone  broke 
the  stillness  of  the  room,  reached  thirty  minutes 
past  twelve,  the  receiver  at  the  inventor's  ear 
began  to  hum,  br-br-br,  as  distinctly  as  the 
sharp  rap  of  a  pencil  on  a  table — the  unmistak- 
able note  of  the  ether  vibrations  sounded  in 
the  telephone  receiver.  The  telephone  receiver 
was  used  instead  of  the  usual  recorder  on 
account  of  its  superior  sensitiveness. 

Transatlantic  wireless  telegraphy  was  an 
accomplished  fact. 

Though  many  doubted  that  an  actual  signal 
had  been  sent  across  the  Atlantic,  the  scientists 
of  both  continents,  almost  without  exception, 
accepted  Marconi's  statement.  The  sending 
of  the  transatlantic  signal,  the  spanning  of  the 
wide  ocean  with  translatable  vibrations,  was  a 
great  achievement,  but  the  young  Italian  bore 
20 


TELEGRAMS   WITHOUT   WIRES 

his  honours  modestly,   and  immediately  went 
to  work  to  perfect  his  system. 

Two  months  after  receiving  the  message  from 
Poldhu  at  St.  Johns,  Marconi  set  sail  from 
England  for  America,  in  the  Philadelphia,  to 
carry  out,  on  a  much  larger  scale,  the  experi- 
ments he  had  worked  out  with  the  tug  three 
years  ago.  The  steamship  was  fitted  with  a 
complete  receiving  and  sending  outfit,  and  soon 
after  she  steamed  out  from  the  harbor  she 
began  to  talk  to  the  Cornwall  station  in  the  dot- 
and-dash  sign  language.  The  long-distance  talk 
between  ship  and  shore  continued  at  intervals, 
the  recording  instrument  writing  the  messages 
down  so  that  any  one  who  understood  the  Morse 
code  could  read.  Message  after  message  came 
and  went  until  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  of 
sea  lay  between  Marconi  and  his  station.  Then 
the  ship  could  talk  no  more,  her  sending  appara- 
tus not  being  strong  enough;  but  the  faithful 
men  at  Poldhu  kept  sending  messages  to  their 
chief,  and  the  recorder  on  the  Philadelphia  kept 
taking  them  down  in  the  telegrapher's  short- 
hand, though  the  steamship  was  plowing 
westward  at  twenty  miles  an  hour.  Day  after 
day,  at  the  appointed  hour  to  the  very  second, 
the  messages  came  from  the  station  on  land, 
flung  into  the  air  with  the  speed  of  light,  to  the 

21 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

young  man  in  the  deck  cabin  of  a  speeding 
steamship  two  hundred  and  fifty,  five  hundred, 
a  thousand,  fifteen  hundred,  yes,  two  thousand 
and  ninety-nine  miles  away — messages  that  were 
written  down  automatically  as  they  came, 
being  permanent  records  that  none  might  gain- 
say and  that  all  might  observe. 

To  Marconi  it  was  the  simple  carrying  out  of 
his  orders,  for  he  said  that  he  had  fitted  the 
Poldhu  instruments  to  work  to  two  thousand 
one  hundred  miles,  but  to  those  who  saw  the 
thing  done — saw  the  narrow  strips  of  paper  come 
reeling  off  the  recorder,  stamped  with  the  blue 
impressions  of  the  messages  through  the  air,  it 
was  astounding  almost  beyond  belief;  but  there 
was  the  record,  duly  attested  by  those  who 
knew,  and  clearly  marked  with  the  position  of 
the  ship  in  longitude  and  latitude  at  the  time 
they  were  received. 

It  was  only  a  few  months  afterward  that 
Marconi,  from  his  first  station  in  the  United 
States,  at  Wellfleet,  Cape  Cod,  Mass.,  sent 
a  message  direct  to  Poldhu,  three  thousand 
miles.  At  frequent  intervals  messages  go  from 
one  country  to  the  other  across  the  ocean, 
carried  through  fog,  unaffected  by  the  winds, 
and  following  the  curvature  of  the  earth,  without 
the  aid  of  wires. 

22 


TELEGRAMS   WITHOUT   WIRES 

Again  the  unassuming  nature  of  the  young 
Italian  was  shown.  There  was  no  brass  band 
nor  display  of  national  colours  in  honour  of  the 
great  achievement;  it  was  all  accomplished 
quietly,  and  suddenly  the  world  woke  up  to 
find  that  the  thing  had  been  done.  Then  the 
great  personages  on  both  sides  of  the  water 
congratulated  and  complimented  each  other 
by  Marconi's  wireless  system. 

At  Marconi's  new  station  at  Glace  Bay,  Cape 
Breton,  and  at  the  powerful  station  at  Wellfleet, 
Cape  Cod,  the  receiving  and  sending  wires  are 
supported  by  four  great  towers  more  than  two 
hundred  feet  high.  Many  wires  are  used  instead 
of  one,  and  much  greater  power  is  of  course 
employed  than  at  first,  but  the  marvellously 
simple  principle  is  the  same  that  was  used  in 
the  garden  at  Bologna.  The  coherer  has  been 
displaced  by  a  new  device  invented  by  Marconi, 
called  a  magnetic  detector,  by  which  the  ether 
waves  are  aided  by  a  stronger  current  to  record 
the  message.  The  effect  is  the  same,  but  the 
method  is  entirely  different. 

The  sending  of  a  long-distance  message  is  a 
spectacular  thing.  Current  of  great  power  is 
used,  and  the  spark  is  a  blinding  flash  accom- 
panied by  deafening  noises  that  suggest  a 
volley  from  rifles.  But  Marconi  is  experiment- 
23 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

ing  to  reduce  the  noise,  and  the  use  of  the  mer- 
cury vapour  invented  by  Peter  Cooper  Hewitt 
will  do  much  to  increase  the  rapidity  in  sending. 

After  much  experimenting  Marconi  discovered 
that  the  longer  the  waves  in  the  ether  the 
more  penetrating  and  lasting  the  quality  they 
possessed,  just  as  long  swells  on  a  body  of 
water  carry  farther  and  endure  longer  than 
short  ones.  Moreover,  he  discovered  that  if 
many  sending- wires  were  used  instead  of  one, 
and  strong  electric  power  was  employed  instead 
of  weak,  these  long,  penetrating,  enduring 
waves  could  be  produced.  All  the  new  Marconi 
stations,  therefore,  built  for  long-distance  work, 
are  fitted  with  many  sending- wires,  and  powerful 
dynamos  are  run  which  are  capable  of  producing 
a  spark  between  the  silvered  knobs  as  thick  as 
a  man's  wrist. 

Marconi  and  several  other  workers  in  the 
field  of  wireless  telegraphy  are  now  busy  experi- 
menting on  a  system  of  attunement,  or  syntony, 
by  which  it  will  be  possible  to  so  adjust  the 
sending  instruments  that  none  but  the  receiver 
for  whom  the  message  is  meant  can  receive  it. 
He  is  working  on  the  principle  whereby  one 
tuning-fork,  when  set  vibrating,  will  set  another 
of  the  same  pitch  humming.  This  problem  is 
practically  solved  now,  and  in  the  near  future 
24 


TELEGRAMS   WITHOUT   WIRES 

every  station,  every  ship,  and  each  installation 
will  have  its  own  key,  and  will  respond  to  none 
other  than  the  particular  vibrations,  wave 
lengths,  or  oscillations,  for  which  it  is  adjusted. 

All  through  the  wonders  he  has  brought  about, 
Marconi,  the  boy  and  the  man,  has  shown  but 
little — he  is  the  strong  character  that  does 
things  and  says  little,  and  his  works  speak  so 
amazingly,  so  loudly,  that  the  personality  of  the 
man  is  obscured. 

The  Marconi  station  at  Glace  Bay,  Cape 
Breton,  is  now  receiving  messages  for  cableless 
transmission  to  England  at  the  rate  of  ten  cents 
a  word — newspaper  matter  at  five  cents  a  word. 
Transatlantic  wireless  telegraphy  is  an  everyday 
occurrence,  and  the  common  practical  uses  are 
almost  beyond  mention.  It  is  quite  within  the 
bounds  of  possibility  for  England  to  talk  clear 
across  to  Australia  over  the  Isthmus  of  Panama, 
and  soon  France  will  be  actually  holding  con- 
verse with  her  strange  ally,  Russia,  across 
Germany  and  Austria,  without  asking  the 
permission  of  either  country.  Ships  talk  to 
one  another  while  in  midocean,  separated  by 
miles  of  salt  water.  Newspapers  have  been 
published  aboard  transatlantic  steamers  with 
the  latest  news  telegraphed  while  en  route; 
indeed,  a  regular  news  service  of  this  kind,  at  a 
25 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

very  reasonable  rate,  has  been  established. 
These  are  facts;  what  wonders  the  future  has 
in  store  we  can  only  guess.  But  these  are 
some  of  the  possibilities — news  service  supplied 
to  subscribers  at  their  homes,  the  important 
items  to  be  ticked  off  on  each  private  instru- 
ment automatically,  "  Marconigraphed  "  from 
the  editorial  rooms;  the  sending  and  receiving 
of  messages  from  moving  trains  or  any  other 
kind  of  a  conveyance;  the  direction  of  a  sub- 
marine craft  from  a  safe-distance  point,  or  the 
control  of  a  submarine  torpedo. 

One  is  apt  to  grow  dizzy  if  the  imagination  is 
allowed  to  run  on  too  far — but  why  should  not 
one  friend  talk  to  another  though  he  be  miles 
away,  and  to  him  alone,  since  his  portable 
instrument  is  attuned  to  but  one  kind  of  vibra- 
tion. It  will  be  like  having  a  separate  lan- 
guage for  each  person,  so  that  "friend  com- 
muneth  with  friend,  and  a  stranger  intermeddleth 
not — "  and  which  none  but  that  one  person 
can  understand. 


26 


SANTOS-DUMONT  AND  HIS  AIR-SHIP 


SANTOS-DUMONT  AND  HIS 
AIR-SHIP 

THERE  was  a  boy  in  far-away  Brazil 
who  played  with  his  friends  the  game 
of  "Pigeon  Flies." 

In  this  pastime  the  boy  who  is  "it"  calls  out 
"pigeon  flies,"  or  "bat  flies,"  and  the  others 
raise  their  fingers;  but  if  he  should  call  "fox 
flies,"  and  one  of  his  mates  should  raise  his 
hand,  that  boy  would  have  to  pay  a  forfeit. 

The  Brazilian  boy,  however,  insisted  on 
raising  his  finger  when  the  catchwords  "man 
flies"  were  called,  and  firmly  protested  against 
paying  a  forfeit. 

Alberto  Santos-Dumont,  even  in  those  early 
days,  was  sure  that  if  man  did  not  fly  then  he 
would  some  day. 

Many  an  imaginative  boy  with  a  mechanical 
turn  of  mind  has  dreamed  and  planned  wonder- 
ful machines  that  would  carry  him  triumphantly 
over  the  tree-tops,  and  when  the  tug  of  the 
kite-string  has  been  felt  has  wished  that  it  would 
pull  him  up  in  the  air  and  carry  him  soaring 
29 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

among  the  clouds.  Santos-Dumont  was  just 
such  a  boy,  and  he  spent  much  time  in  setting 
miniature  balloons  afloat,  and  in  launching  tiny 
air-ships  actuated  by  twisted  rubber  bands. 
But  he  never  outgrew  this  interest  in  overhead 
sailing,  and  his  dreams  turned  into  practical 
working  inventions  that  enabled  him  to  do 
what  never  a  mortal  man  had  done  before — 
that  is,  move  about  at  will  in  the  air. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  clear  blue  sky  of  his  native 
land,  and  the  dense,  almost  impenetrable  thickets 
below,  as  Santos-Dumont  himself  has  suggested, 
that  made  him  think  how  fine  it  would  be  to 
float  in  the  air  above  the  tangle,  where  neither 
rough  ground  nor  wide  streams  could  hinder. 
At  any  rate,  the  thought  came  into  the 
boy's  mind  when  he  was  very  small,  and  it 
stuck  there. 

His  father  owned  great  plantations  and  many 
miles  of  railroad  in  Brazil,  and  the  boy  grew 
up  in  the  atmosphere  of  ponderous  machinery 
and  puffing  locomotives.  By  the  time  Santos- 
Dumont  was  ten  years  old  he  had  learned 
enough  about  mechanics  to  control  the  engines 
of  his  father's  railroads  and  handle  the  machinery 
in  the  factories.  The  boy  had  a  natural  bent 
for  mechanics  and  mathematics,  and  possessed 
a  cool  courage  that  made  him  appear  almost 
30 


7TBRA*F 

or  THE    ' 
UNIVERSITY 

•£X'  ;rrn 


SANTOS-DUMONT  AND  HIS  AIR-SHIP 

phlegmatic.  Besides  his  inherited  aptitude  for 
mechanics,  his  father,  who  was  an  engineer  of 
the  Central  School  of  Arts  and  Manufactures  of 
Paris,  gave  him  much  useful  instruction.  Like 
Marconi,  Santos-Dumont  had  many  advantages, 
and  also,  like  the  inventor  of  wireless  telegraphy, 
he  had  the  high  intelligence  and  determination 
to  win  success  in  spite  of  many  discouragements. 
Like  an  explorer  in  a  strange  land,  Santos- 
Dumont  was  a  pioneer  in  his  work,  each  trial 
being  different  from  any  other,  though  the 
means  in  themselves  were  familiar  enough. 

The  boy  Santos-Dumont  dreamed  air-ships, 
planned  air-ships,  and  read  about  aerial  naviga- 
tion, until  he  was  possessed  with  the  idea  that 
he  must  build  an  air-ship  for  himself. 

He  set  his  face  toward  France,  the  land  of 
aerial  navigation  and  the  country  where  light 
motors  had  been  most  highly  developed  for 
automobiles.  The  same  year,  1897,  when  he 
was  twenty-four  years  old,  he,  with  M. 
Machuron,  made  his  first  ascent  in  a  spherical 
balloon,  the  only  kind  in  existence  at  that 
time.  He  has  described  that  first  ascension 
with  an  enthusiasm  that  proclaims  him  a 
devotee  of  the  science  for  all  time. 

His  first  ascension  was  full  of  incident:  a 
storm  was  encountered;  the  clouds  spread 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

themselves  between  them  and  the  map-like 
earth,  so  that  nothing  could  be  seen  except  the 
white,  billowy  masses  of  vapour  shining  in  the 
sun;  some  difficulty  was  experienced  in  getting 
down,  for  the  air  currents  were  blowing  upward 
and  carried  the  balloon  with  them;  the  tree- 
tops  finally  caught  them,  but  they  escaped  by 
throwing  out  ballast,  and  finally  landed  in  an 
open  place,  and  watched  the  dying  balloon  as 
it  convulsively  gasped  out  its  last  breath  of 
escaping  gas. 

After  a  few  trips  with  an  experienced  aeronaut , 
Santos-Dumont  determined  to  go  alone  into 
the  regions  above  the  clouds.  This  was  the 
first  of  a  series  of  ascensions  in  his  own  balloon. 
It  was  made  of  very  light  silk,  which  he 
could  pack  in  a  valise  and  carry  easily  back  to 
Paris  from  his  landing  point.  In  all  kinds  of 
weather  this  determined  sky  navigator  went 
aloft;  in  wind,  rain,  and  sunshine  he  studied 
the  atmospheric  conditions,  air  currents,  and 
the  action  of  his  balloon. 

The  young  Brazilian  ascended  thirty  times 
in  spherical  balloons  before  he  attempted  any 
work  on  an  elongated  shape.  He  realised  that 
many  things  must  be  learned  before  he  could 
handle  successfully  the  much  more  delicate 
and  sensitive  elongated  gas-bag. 
32 


SANTOS-DUMONT  AND  HIS  AIR-SHIP 

In  general,  Santos-Dumont  worked  on  the 
theory  of  the  dirigible  balloon — that  is,  one  that 
might  be  controlled  and  made  to  go  in  any 
direction  desired,  by  means  of  a  motor  and  pro- 
peller carried  by  a  buoyant  gas-bag.  His  plan 
was  to  build  a  balloon,  cigar-shaped,  of  sufficient 
capacity  to  a  little  more  than  lift  his  machinery 
and  himself,  this  extra  lifting  power  to  be 
balanced  by  ballast,  so  that  the  balloon  and 
the  weight  it  carried  would  practically  equal 
the  weight  of  air  it  displaced.  The  push  of  the 
revolving  propeller  would  be  depended  upon 
to  move  the  whole  air-ship  up  or  down  or 
forward,  just  as  the  motion  of  a  fish's  fins  and 
tail  move  it  up,  down,  forward,  or  back,  its 
weight  being  nearly  the  same  as  the  water  it 
displaces. 

The  theory  seems  so  simple  that  it  strikes 
one  as  strange  that  the  problem  of  aerial 
navigation  was  not  solved  long  ago.  The  story 
of  Santos-Dumont 's  experiments,  however,  his 
adventures  and  his  successes,  will  show  that 
the  problem  was  not  so  simple  as  it  seemed. 

Santos-Dumont  was  built  to  jockey  a  Pegasus 
or  guide  an  air-ship ,  for  he  weighed  but  a  hundred 
pounds  when  he  made  his  first  ascensions,  and 
added  very  little  live  ballast  as  he  grew  older. 

Weight,  of  course,  was  the  great  bugbear  of 
33 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

every  air-ship  inventor,  and  the  chief  problem 
was  to  provide  a  motor  light  enough  to  furnish 
sufficient  power  for  driving  a  balloon  that 
had  sufficient  lifting  capacity  to  support  it  and 
the  aeronaut  in  the  air.  Steam-engines  had 
been  tried,  but  found  too  heavy  for  the  power 
generated;  electric  motors  had  been  tested, 
and  proved  entirely  out  of  the  question  for  the 
same  reason. 

Santos-Dumont  has  been  very  fortunate  in 
this  respect,  his  success,  indeed,  being  largely 
due  to  the  compact  and  powerful  gasoline 
motors  that  have  been  developed  for  use  on 
automobiles. 

Even  before  the  balloon  for  the  first  air-ship 
was  ordered  the  young  Brazilian  experimented 
with  his  three-and-one-half  horse-power  gasoline 
motor  in  every  possible  way,  adding  to  its 
power,  and  reducing  its  weight  until  he  had  cut 
it  down  to  sixty-six  pounds,  or  a  little  less  than 
twenty  pounds  to  a  horse-power.  Putting  the 
little  motor  on  a  tricycle,  he  led  the  procession 
of  powerful  automobiles  in  the  Paris-Amsterdam 
race  for  some  distance,  proving  its  power  and 
speed.  The  motor  tested  to  his  satisfaction, 
Santos-Dumont  ordered  his  balloon  of  the 
famous  maker,  Lachambre,  and  while  it  was 
building  he  experimented  still  further  with  his 
34 


SANTOS-DUMONT  AND  HIS  AIR-SHIP 

little  engine.  To  the  horizontal  shaft  of  his 
motor  he  attached  a  propeller  made  of  silk 
stretched  tightly  over  a  light  wooden  frame- 
work. The  motor  was  secured  to  the  aeronaut's 
basket  behind,  and  the  reservoir  of  gasoline 
hung  to  the  basket  in  front.  All  this  was  done 
and  tested  before  the  balloon  was  finished — in 
fact,  the  aeronaut  hung  himself  up  in  his  basket 
from  the  roof  of  his  workshop  and  started  his 
motor  to  find  out  how  much  pushing  power  it 
exerted  and  if  everything  worked  satisfactorily. 

On  September  18,  1898,  Santos-Dumont 
made  his  first  ascension  in  his  first  air-ship — in 
fact,  he  had  never  tried  to  operate  an  elongated 
balloon  before,  and  so  much  of  this  first  experi- 
ence was  absolutely  new.  Imagine  a  great  bag 
of  yellow  oiled  silk,  cigar-shaped,  fully  inflated 
with  hydrogen  gas,  but  swaying  in  the  morning 
breeze,  and  tugging  at  its  restraining  ropes: 
a  vast  bubble  eighty-two  feet  long,  and  twelve 
feel  in  diameter  at  its  greatest  girth.  Such 
was  the  balloon  of  Santos-Dumont 's  first  air- 
ship. Suspended  by  cords  from  the  great  gas- 
bag was  the  basket,  to  which  was  attached  the 
motor  and  six-foot  propeller,  hung  sixteen  feet 
below  the  belly  of  the  great  air-fish . 

Many  friends  and  curiosity  seekers  had 
assembled  to  see  the  aeronaut  make  his  first 
35 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

foolhardy  attempt,  as  they  called  it.  Never 
before  had  a  spark-spitting  motor  been  hung 
under  a  great  reservoir  of  highly  inflammable 
hydrogen  gas,  and  most  of  the  group  thought 
the  daring  inventor  would  never  see  another 
sunset.  Santos-Dumont  moved  around  his 
suspended  air-ship,  testing  a  cord  here  and  a 
connection  there,  for  he  well  knew  that  his  life 
might  depend  on  such  a  small  thing  as  a  length 
of  twine  or  a  slender  rod.  At  one  side  of  a 
small  open  space  on  the  outskirts  of  Paris 
the  long,  yellow  balloon  tugged  at  its  fastenings , 
while  the  navigator  made  his  final  round  to  see 
that  all  was  well.  A  twist  of  a  strap  around 
the  driving-wheel  set  the  motor  going,  and  a 
moment  later  Santos-Dumont  was  standing 
in  his  basket,  giving  the  signal  to  release  the 
air-ship.  It  rose  heavily,  and  travelling  with 
the  fresh  wind,  the  propellers  whirling  swiftly, 
it  crashed  into  the  trees  at  the  other  side  of  the 
enclosure.  The  aeronaut  had,  against  his  better 
judgment,  gone  with  the  wind  rather  than 
against  it,  so  the  power  of  the  propeller 
was  added  to  the  force  of  the  breeze,  and  the 
trees  were  encountered  before  the  ship  could 
rise  sufficiently  to  clear  them.  The  damage 
was  repaired,  and  two  days  later,  September  20, 
1898,  the  Brazilian  started  again  from  the  same 

36 


SANTOS-DUMONT  AND  HIS  AIR-SHIP 

enclosure,  but  this  time  against  the  wind. 
The  propeller  whirled  merrily,  the  explosions  of 
the  little  motor  snapped  sharply  as  the  great 
yellow  bulk  and  the  tiny  basket  with  its  human 
freight,  the  captain  of  the  craft,  rose  slowly  in 
the  air.  Santos-Dumont  stood  quietly  in  his 
basket,  his  hand  on  the  controlling  cords  of  the 
great  rudder  on  the  end  of  the  balloon ;  near  at 
hand  was  a  bag  of  loose  sand,  while  small  bags 
of  ballast  were  packed  around  his  feet.  Steadily 
she  rose  and  began  to  move  against  the  wind 
with  the  slow  grace  of  a  great  bird,  while  the 
little  man  in  the  basket  steered  right  or  left,  up 
or  down,  as  he  willed.  He  turned  his  rudder 
for  the  lateral  movements,  and  changed  his 
shifting  bags  of  ballast  hanging  fore  and  aft, 
pulling  in  the  after  bag  when  he  wished  to 
point  her  nose  down,  and  doing  likewise  with 
the  forward  ballast  when  he  wished  to  ascend — 
the  propeller  pushing  up  or  down  as  she  was 
pointed.  For  the  first  time  a  man  had  actual 
control  of  an  air-ship  that  carried  him.  He 
commanded  it  as  a  captain  governs  his  ship, 
and  it  obeyed  as  a  vessel  answers  its  helm. 

A  quarter  of  a  mile  above  the  heads  of  the 
pygmy  crowd    who    watched    him    the    little 
South  American  maneuvered  his  air-ship,  turn- 
ing circles  and  figure  eights  with  and  against 
37 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

the  breeze,  too  busy  with  his  rudder,  his  vibrat- 
ing little  engine,  his  shifting  bags  of  ballast,  and 
the  great  palpitating  bag  of  yellow  silk  above 
him,  to  think  of  his  triumph,  though  he  could 
still  hear  faintly  the  shouts  of  his  friends  on 
earth.  For  a  time  all  went  well  and  he  felt  the 
exhilaration  that  no  earth- travelling  can  ever 
give,  as  he  experienced  somewhat  of  the  freedom 
that  the  birds  must  know  when  they  soar 
through  the  air  unfettered.  As  he  descended  to 
a  lower,  denser  atmosphere  he  felt  rather  than 
saw  that  something  was  wrong — that  there  was 
a  lack  of  buoyancy  to  his  craft.  The  engine 
kept  on  with  its  rapid  "  phut,  phut,  phut  " 
steadily,  but  the  air-ship  was  sinking  much 
more  rapidly  than  it  should.  Looking  up,  the 
aeronaut  saw  that  his  long  gas-bag  was  beginning 
to  crease  in  the  middle  and  was  getting  flabby, 
the  cords  from  the  ends  of  the  long  balloon 
were  beginning  to  sag,  and  threatened  to  catch 
in  the  propeller.  The  earth  seemed  to  be  leap- 
ing up  toward  him  and  destruction  stared  him  in 
the  face.  A  hand  air-pump  was  provided  to  fill 
an  air  balloon  inside  the  larger  one  and  so  make 
up  for  the  compression  of  the  hydrogen  gas 
caused  by  the  denser,  lower  atmosphere.  He 
started  this  pump,  but  it  proved  too  small,  and 
as  the  gas  was  compressed  more  and  more,  and 

38 


SANTOS-DUMONT  AND  HIS  AIR-SHIP 

the  flabbiness  of  the  balloon  increased,  the  whole 
thing  became  unmanageable.  The  great  ship 
dropped  and  dropped  through  the  air,  while 
the  aeronaut,  no  longer  in  control  of  his  ship,  but 
controlled  by  it,  worked  at  the  pump  and  threw 
out  ballast  in  a  vain  endeavour  to  escape  the 
inevitable.  He  was  descending  directly  over 
the  greensward  in  the  centre  of  the  Longchamps 
race-course,  when  he  caught  sight  of  some  boys 
flying  kites  in  the  open  space.  He  shouted  to 
them  to  take  hold  of  his  trailing  guide-rope  and 
run  with  it  against  the  wind.  They  understood 
at  once  and  as  instantly  obeyed.  The  wind  had 
the  same  effect  on  the  air-ship  as  it  has  on  a 
kite  when  one  runs  with  it,  and  the  speed  of 
the  fall  was  checked.  Man  and  air-ship  landed 
with  a  thud  that  smashed  almost  everything 
but  the  man.  The  smart  boys  that  had  saved 
Santos-Dumont's  life  helped  him  pack  what 
was  left  of  "Santos-Dumont  No.  i"  into  its 
basket,  and  a  cab  took  inventor  and  invention 
back  to  Paris. 

In  spite  of  the  narrow  escape  and  the  dis- 
couraging ending  of  his  first  flight,  Santos- 
Dumont  launched  his  second  air-ship  the  follow- 
ing May.  Number  2  was  slightly  larger  than 
the  first,  and  the  fault  that  was  dangerous 
in  it  was  corrected,  its  inventor  thought,  by  a 
39 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

ventilator  connecting  the  inner  bag  with  the 
outer  air,  which  was  designed  to  compensate 
for  the  contraction  of  the  gas  and  keep  the 
skin  of  the  balloon  taut.  But  No.  2  doubled 
up  as  had  No.  i,  while  she  was  still  held  cap- 
tive by  a  line;  falling  into  a  tree  hurt  the 
balloon,  but  the  aeronaut  escaped  unscratched. 
Santos-Dumont,  in  spite  of  his  quiet  ways  and 
almost  effeminate  speech,  his  diminutive  body, 
and  wealth  that  permitted  him  to  enjoy  every 
luxury,  persisted  in  his  work  with  rare  courage 
and  determination.  The  difficulties  were  great 
and  the  available  information  meager  to  the 
last  degree.  The  young  inventor  had  to 
experiment  and  find  out  for  himself  the  obstacles 
to  success  and  then  invent  ways  to  surmount 
them.  He  had  need  of  ample  wealth,  for  the 
building  of  air-ships  was  expensive  business. 
The  balloons  were  made  of  the  finest,  lightest 
Japanese  silk,  carefully  prepared  and  still  more 
vigorously  tested.  They  were  made  by  the 
most  famous  of  the  world's  balloon -makers, 
Lachambre,  and  required  the  spending  of 
money  unstintedly.  The  motors  cost  according 
to  their  lightness  rather  than  their  weight,  and 
all  the  materials,  cordage,  metal -work,  etc., 
were  expensive  for  the  same  reason.  The  cost 
of  the  hydrogen  gas  was  very  great  also,  at 
40 


SANTOS-DUMONT  AND  HIS  AIR-SHIP 

twenty  cents  per  cubic  meter  (thirty-five  cubic 
feet);  and  as  at  each  ascension  all  the  gas  was 
usually  lost,  the  expense  of  each  sail  in  the  air 
for  gas  alone  amounted  to  from  $57  for  the 
smallest  ship  to  $122  for  the  largest. 

Nevertheless,  in  November  of  1899  Santos- 
Dumont  launched  another  air-ship — No.  3.  This 
one  was  supported  by  a  balloon  of  much  greater 
diameter,  though  the  length  remained  about 
the  same — sixty-six  feet.  The  capacity,  how- 
ever, was  almost  three  times  as  great  as  No.  i, 
being  17,655  cubic  feet.  The  balloon  was  so 
much  larger  that  the  less  expensive  but  heavier 
illuminating  gas  could  be  used  instead  of  hydro- 
gen. When  the  air-ship  "Santos-Dumont  No. 
3  "  collapsed  and  dumped  its  navigator  into  the 
trees,  Santos-Dumont's  friends  took  it  upon 
themselves  to  stop  his  dangerous  experiment- 
ing, but  he  said  nothing,  and  straightway  set 
to  work  to  plan  a  new  machine.  It  was 
characteristic  of  the  man  that  to  him  the 
danger,  the  expense,  and  the  discouragements 
counted  not  at  all. 

In  the  afternoon  of  November  13,  1899, 
Santos-Dumont  started  on  his  first  flight  in 
No.  3.  The  wind  was  blowing  hard,  and 
for  a  time  the  great  bulk  of  the  balloon  made 
little  headway  against  it;  600  feet  in  air  it 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

hung  poised  almost  motionless,  the  winglike 
propeller  whirling  rapidly.  Then  slowly  the 
great  balloon  began  nosing  its  way  into  the 
wind,  and  the  plucky  little  man,  all  alone, 
beyond  the  reach  of  any  human  voice,  could 
not  tell  his  joy,  although  the  feeling  of  triumph 
was  strong  within  him.  Far  below  him,  look- 
ing like  two-legged  hats,  so  foreshortened 
they  were  from  the  aeronaut's  point  of  view, 
were  the  people  of  Paris,  while  in  front  loomed 
the  tall  steel  spire  of  the  Eiffel  Tower.  To  sail 
round  that  tower  even  as  the  birds  float  about 
had  been  the  dream  of  the  young  aeronaut 
since  his  first  ascension.  The  motor  was 
running  smoothly,  the  balloon  skin  was  taut, 
and  everything  was  working  well;  pulling  the 
rudder  slightly,  Santos-Dumont  headed  directly 
for  the  great  steel  shaft. 

The  people  who  were  on  the  Eiffel  Tower 
that  breezy  afternoon  saw  a  sight  that  never  a 
man  saw  before.  Out  of  the  haze  a  yellow  shape 
loomed  larger  each  minute  until  its  outlines 
could  be  distinctly  seen.  It  was  a  big  cigar- 
shaped  balloon,  and  under  it,  swung  by  what 
seemed  gossamer  threads,  was  a  basket  in  which 
was  a  man.  The  air-ship  was  going  against  the 
wind,  and  the  man  in  the  basket  evidently  had 
full  control,  for  the  amazed  people  on  the 
42 


SANTOS-DVMOttT  AND  HIS  AIR-SHIP 

tower  saw  the  air-ship  turn  right  and  left  as 
her  navigator  pulled  the  rudder-cords,  and  she 
rose  and  fell  as  her  master  regulated  his  shifting 
ballast.  For  twenty  minutes  Santos-Dumont 
maneuvered  around  the  tower  as  a  sailboat 
tacks  around  a  buoy.  While  the  people  on 
that  tall  spire  were  still  watching,  the  aeronaut 
turned  his  ship  around  and  sailed  off  for  the 
Longchamps  race-course,  the  green  oval  of 
which  could  be  just  distinguished  in  the  distance. 

On  the  exact  spot  where,  a  little  more  than  a 
year  before,  the  same  man  almost  lost  his  life 
and  wrecked  his  first  air-ship,  No.  3  landed  as 
softly  and  neatly  as  a  bird. 

Though  he  made  many  other  successful 
flights,  he  discovered  so  many  improvements 
that  with  the  first  small  mishap  he  abandoned 
No.  3  and  began  on  No.  4. 

The  balloon  "Santos-Dumont  No.  4"  was 
long  and  slim,  and  had  an  inner  air-bag  to 
compensate  for  the  contraction  of  the  hydrogen 
gas.  This  air-ship  had  one  feature  that  was 
entirely  new;  the  aeronaut  had  arranged  for 
himself,  not  a  secure  basket  to  stand  in,  but  a 
frail,  unprotected  bicycle  seat  attached  to  an 
ordinary  bicycle  frame.  The  cranks  were  con- 
nected with  the  starting-gear  of  the  motor. 

Seated  on  his  unguarded  bicycle  seat,  and 
43 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

holding  on  to  the  handle-bars,  to  which  were 
attached  the  rudder-cords,  Santos-Dumont 
made  voyages  in  the  air  with  all  the  assurance 
of  the  sailor  on  the  sea. 

But  No.  4  was  soon  too  imperfect  for  the 
exacting  Brazilian,  and  in  April,  1901,  he 
had  finished  No.  5.  This  air-cruiser  was 
the  longest  of  all  (105  feet),  and  was  fitted 
with  a  sixteen  horse-power  motor.  Instead  of 
the  bicycle  frame,  he  built  a  triangular  keel  of 
pine  strips  and  strengthened  it  with  tightly 
strung  piano  .wires,  the  whole  frame,  though 
sixty  feet  long,  weighing  but  no  pounds. 
Hung  between  the  rods,  being  suspended  by 
piano  wires  as  in  a  spider-web,  was  the  motor, 
basket,  and  propeller-shaft. 

The  last-named  air-ship  was  built,  if  not 
expressly  at  least  with  the  intention  of  trying 
for  the  Deutsch  Prize  of  100,000  francs.  This 
was  a  big  undertaking,  and  many  people  thought 
it  would  never  be  accomplished ;  the  successful 
aeronaut  had  to  travel  more  than  three  miles 
in  one  direction,  round  the  Eiffel  Tower  as  a 
racing  yacht  rounds  a  stake-boat,  and  return  to 
the  starting  point,  all  within  thirty  minutes 
— i.  e.,  almost  seven  miles  in  two  directions  in 
half  an  hour. 

The  new  machine  worked  well,  though  at  one 
44 


SANTOS-DUMONT  AND  HIS  AIR-SHIP 

time  the  aerial  navigator's  friends  thought  that 
they  would  have  to  pick  him  up  in  pieces  and 
carry  him  home  in  a  basket.  This  incident 
occurred  during  one  of  the  first  flights  in 
No.  5.  Everything  was  going  smoothly,  and 
the  air-ship  circled  like  a  hawk,  when  the 
spectators,  who  were  craning  their  necks  to  see, 
noticed  that  something  was  wrong;  the  motor 
slowed  down,  the  propeller  spun  less  swiftly, 
and  the  whole  fabric  began  to  sink  toward  the 
ground.  While  the  people  gazed,  their  hearts 
in  their  mouths,  they  saw  Santos-Dumont 
scramble  out  of  his  basket  and  crawl  out  on 
the  framework,  while  the  balloon  swayed  in 
the  air.  He  calmly  knotted  the  cord  that  had 
parted  and  crept  back  to  his  place,  as  uncon- 
cernedly as  if  he  were  on  solid  ground. 

It  was  in  August  of  1901  that  he  made  his 
first  official  trial  for  the  Deutsch  Prize.  The 
start  was  perfect,  and  the  machine  swooped 
toward  the  distant  tower  straight  as  a  crow 
flies  and  almost  as  fast.  The  first  half  of  the 
distance  was  covered  in  nine  minutes,  so 
twenty-one  minutes  remained  for  the  balance 
of  the  journey:  success  seemed  assured;  the 
prize  was  almost  within  the  grasp  of  the 
aeronaut.  Of  a  sudden  assured  success  was 
changed  to  dire  peril;  the  automatic  valves 

45 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

began  to  leak,  the  balloon  to  sag,  the  cords 
supporting  the  wooden  keel  hung  low,  and  before 
Santos-Dumont  could  stop  the  motor  the 
propeller  had  cut  them  and  the  whole  system 
was  threatened.  The  wind  was  drifting  the 
air-ship  toward  the  Eiffel  Tower;  the  navigator 
had  lost  control;  500  feet  below  were  the 
roofs  of  the  Trocadero  Hotels ;  he  had  to  decide 
which  was  the  least  dangerous;  there  was  but 
a  moment  to  think.  Santos-Dumont,  death 
staring  him  in  the  face,  chose  the  roofs.  A 
swift  jerk  of  a  cord,  and  a  big  slit  was  made  in 
the  balloon.  Instantly  man,  motor,  gas-bag, 
and  keel  went  tumbling  down  straight  into  the 
court  of  the  hotels.  The  great  balloon  burst 
with  a  noise  like  an  explosion,  and  the  man  was 
lost  in  a  confusion  of  yellow-silk  covering,  cords, 
and  wires.  When  the  firemen  reached  the  place 
and  put  down  their  long  ladders  they  found 
him  standing  calmly  in  his  wicker  basket, 
entirely  unhurt.  The  long,  staunch  keel,  resting 
by  its  ends  on  the  walls  of  the  court,  prevented 
him  from  being  dashed  to  pieces.  And  so 
ended  No.  5. 

f  Most  men  would  have  given  up  aerial  navi- 
gation after  such  an  experience,  but  Santos- 
Dumont  could  not  be  deterred  from  continuing 
his  experiments.  The  night  of  the  very  day 
46 


SANTOS-DUMONT  AND  HIS  AIR-SHIP 

which  witnessed  his  fearful  fall  and  the  destruc- 
tion of  No.  5  he  ordered  a  new  balloon  for 
"Santos-Dumont  No.  6."  It  showed  the 
pluck  and  determination  of  the  man  as  nothing 
else  could. 

Twenty-two  days  after  the  aeronaut's  narrow 
escape  his  new  air-ship  was  finished  and  ready 
for  a  flight.  No.  6  was  practically  the  same 
as  its  predecessor — the  triangular  keel  was 
retained,  but  an  eighteen  horse-power  gasoline 
motor  was  substituted  for  the  sixteen  horse- 
power used  previously.  The  propeller,  made 
of  silk  stretched  over  a  bamboo  frame,  was 
hung  at  the  after  end  of  the  keel;  the  motor 
was  a  little  aft  of  the  centre,  while  the  basket 
to  which  led  the  steering-gear,  the  emergency 
valve  to  the  balloon,  and  the  motor-controlling 
gear  was  suspended  farther  forward.  To  con- 
trol the  upward  or  downward  pointing  of  the 
new  air-ship,  shifting  ballast  was  used  which 
ran  along  a  wire  under  the  keel  from  one  end 
to  the  other;  the  cords  controlling  this  ran  to 
the  basket  also. 

The  new  air-ship  worked  well,  and  the  experi- 
mental flights  were  successful  with  one  exception 
— when  the  balloon  came  in  contact  with  a  tree. 

It  was  in  October,  1901  (the  ipth),  when 
the  Deutsch  Prize  Committee  was  asked  to 
47 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

meet  again  and  see  a  man  try  to  drive  a 
balloon  against  the  wind,  round  the  Eiffel 
Tower,  and  return. 

The  start  took  place  at  2:42  p.  M.  of  October 
19,  1901,  with  a  beam  wind  blowing.  Straight 
as  a  bullet  the  air-ship  sped  for  the  steel  shaft 
of  the  tower,  rising  as  she  flew.  On  and  on 
she  sped,  while  the  spectators,  remembering 
the  finish  of  the  last  trial,  watched  almost 
breathlessly.  With  the  air  of  a  cup-racer  turn- 
ing the  stake-boat  she  rounded  the  steel  spire,  a 
run  of  three  and  three-fifth  miles,  in  nine 
minutes  (at  the  rate  of  more  than  twenty-two 
miles  an  hour),  and  started  on  the  homestretch. 

For  a  few  moments  all  went  well,  then  those 
who  watched  were  horrified  to  see  the  propeller 
slow  down  and  nearly  stop,  while  the  wind 
carried  the  air-ship  toward  the  Tower.  Just 
in  time  the  motor  was  speeded  up  and  the 
course  was  resumed.  As  the  group  of  men 
watched  the  speck  grow  larger  and  larger  until 
things  began  to  take  definite  shape,  the  white 
blur  of  the  whirling  propeller  could  be  seen 
and  the  small  figure  in  the  basket  could  be  at 
last  distinguished.  Again  the  motor  failed,  the 
speed  slackened,  and  the  ship  began  to  sink. 
Santos-Dumont  threw  out  enough  ballast  to 
recover  his  equilibrium  and  adjusted  the  motor. 


UNIVERSITY 
or 


SANTOS-DUMONT  AND  HIS  AIR-SHIP 

With  but  three  minutes  left  and  some  distance 
to  go,  the  great  dirigible  balloon  got  up  speed 
and  rushed  for  the  goal.  At  eleven  and  a  half 
minutes  past  three,  twenty-nine  minutes  and 
thirty -one  seconds  after  starting,  Santos-Dumont 
crossed  the  line,  the  winner  of  the  Deutsch 
Prize.  And  so  the  young  Brazilian  accom- 
plished that  which  had  been  declared  impossible. 

The  following  winter  the  aerial  navigator,  in 
the  same  No.  5,  sailed  many  times  over  the 
waters  of  the  Mediterranean  from  Monte 
Carlo.  These  flights  over  the  water,  against, 
athwart,  and  with  the  wind,  some  of  them 
faster  than  the  attending  steamboats  could 
travel,  continued  until  through  careless  infla- 
tion of  the  balloon  the  air-ship  and  navigator 
sank  into  the  sea.  Santos-Dumont  was  rescued 
without  being  harmed  in  the  least,  and  the 
air-ship  was  preserved  intact,  to  be  exhibited 
later  to  American  sightseers. 

"Santos-Dumont  No.  6,"  the  most  success- 
ful of  the  series  built  by  the  determined 
Brazilian,  looks  as  if  it  were  altogether  too 
frail  to  intrust  with  the  carrying  of  a  human 
being.  The  105 -foot-long  balloon,  a  light 
yellow  in  colour,  sways  and  undulates  with 
every  passing  breeze.  The  steel  piano  wires 
by  which  the  keel  and  apparatus  are  hung  to 
49 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

the  balloon  skin  are  like  spider-webs  in 
lightness  and  delicacy,  and  the  motor  that  has 
the  strength  of  eighteen  horses  is  hardly 
bigger  than  a  barrel.  A  little  forward  of 
the  motor  is  suspended  to  the  keel  the  cigar- 
shaped  gasoline  reservoir,  and  strung  along  the 
top  rod  are  the  batteries  which  furnish  the 
current  to  make  the  sparks  for  the  purpose  of 
exploding  the  gas  in  the  motor. 

Santos-Dumont  himself  says  that  the  world 
is  still  a  long  way  from  practical,  everyday 
aerial  navigation,  but  he  points  out  the  apparent 
fact  that  the  dirigible  balloon  in  the  hands  of 
determined  men  will  practically  put  a  stop  to 
war.  Henri  Rochefort  has  said:  "The  day 
when  it  is  established  that  a  man  can  direct  an 
air-ship  in  a  given  direction  and  cause  it  to 
maneuver  as  he  wills — there  will  remain  little 
for  the  nations  to  do  but  to  lay  down  their 
arms." 

The  man  who  has  done  so  much  toward  the 
abolishing  of  war  can  rest  well  content  with 
his  work. 


5° 


HOW  A  FAST  TRAIN  IS  RUN 


HOW  A  FAST  TRAIN  IS  RUN 

THE  conductor  stood  at  the  end  of  the  train, 
watch  in  hand,  and  at  the  moment 
when  the  hands  indicated  the  appointed  hour 
he  leisurely  climbed  aboard  and  pulled  the 
whistle  cord.  A  sharp,  penetrating  hiss  of 
escaping  air  answered  the  pull,  and  the  train 
moved  out  of  the  great  train-shed  in  its  race 
against  time.  It  was  all  so  easy  and  comfortable 
that  the  passengers  never  thought  of  the  work 
and  study  that  had  been  spent  to  produce  the 
result.  The  train  gathered  speed  and  rushed 
on  at  an  appalling  rate,  but  the  passengers  did 
not  realise  how  fast  they  were  going  unless  they 
looked  out  of  the  windows  and  saw  the  houses 
and  trees,  telegraph  poles,  and  signal  towers 
flash  by. 

It  is  the  purpose  of  this  chapter  to  tell  how 
high  speed  is  attained  without  loss  of  comfort 
to  the  passengers — in  other  words,  to  tell  how 
a  fast  train  is  run. 

When  the  conductor  pulled  the  cord  at  the 
rear  end  of  the  long  train  a  whistling  signal  was 
53 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

thus  given  in  the  engine-cab,  and  the  engineer, 
after  glancing  down  the  tracks  to  see  that  the 
signals  indicated  a  clear  track,  pulled  out  the 
long  handle  of  the  throttle,  and  the  great  machine 
obeyed  his  will  as  a  docile  horse  answers  a  touch 
on  the  rein.  He  opened  the  throttle-valve  just  a 
little,  so  that  but  little  steam  was  admitted  to 
the  cylinders,  and  the  pistons  being  pushed  out 
slowly,  the  driving-wheels  revolved  slowly  and 
the  train  started  gradually.  When  the  end  of 
the  piston  stroke  was  reached  the  used  steam 
was  expelled  into  the  smokestack,  creating  a 
draught  which  in  turn  strengthened  the  heat  of 
the  fire.  With  each  revolution  of  the  driving- 
wheels,  each  cylinder — there  is  one  on  each  side 
of  every  locomotive — blew  its  steamy  breath 
into  the  stack  twice.  This  kept  the  fire  glow- 
ing and  made  the  chou-chou  sound  that  every- 
body knows  and  every  baby  imitates. 

As  the  train  gathered  speed  the  engineer 
pulled  the  throttle  open  wider  and  wider,  the 
puffs  in  the  short,  stubby  stack  grew  more  and 
more  frequent,  and  the  rattle  and  roar  of  the 
iron  horse  increased. 

Down  in  the  pit  of  the  engine-cab  the  fireman, 

a  great  shovel  in  his  hands,  stood  ready  to  feed 

the  ravenous  fires.     Every  minute  or  two  he 

pulled  the  chain  and  yanked  the  furnace  door 

54 


"FIRING"  A  FAST  LOCOMOTIVE 
An  operation  that  is  practically  continuous  during  a  fast  trip. 


UNIVERSITY 

OF 


HOW  A   FAST   TRAIN  IS  RUN 

open  to  throw  in  the  coal,  shutting  the  door 
again  after  each  shovelful,  to  keep  the  fire  hot. 

The  fireman  on  a  fast  locomotive  is  kept 
extremely  busy,  for  he  must  keep  the  steam- 
pressure  up  to  the  required  standard — 150  or 
200  pounds — no  matter  how  fast  the  sucking 
cylinders  may  draw  it  out.  He  kept  his  eyes 
on  the  steam-gage  most  of  the  time,  and  the 
minute  the  quivering  finger  began  to  drop, 
showing  reduced  pressure,  he  opened  the  door 
to  the  glowing  furnace  and  fed  the  fire.  The 
steam-cylinders  act  on  the  boiler  a  good  deal 
as  a  lung-tester  acts  on  a  human  being;  the 
cylinders  draw  out  the  steam  from  the  boiler, 
requiring  a  roaring  fire  to  make  the  vapour 
rapidly  enough  and  keep  up  the  pressure. 

Though  the  engineer  seemed  to  be  taking  it 
easily  enough  with  his  hand  resting  lightly  on  the 
reversing-lever,  his  body  at  rest,  the  fireman 
was  kept  on  the  jump.  If  he  was  not  shovelling 
coal  he  was  looking  ahead  for  signals  (for  many 
roads  require  him  to  verify  the  engineer),  or 
adjusting  the  valves  that  admitted  steam  to 
the  train-pipes  and  heated  the  cars,  or  else, 
noticing  that  the  water  in  the  boiler  was  getting 
low — and  this  is  one  of  his  greatest  responsi- 
bilities, which,  however,  the  engineer  sometimes 
shares — he  turned  on  the  steam  in  the  injector, 
55 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

which  forced  the  water  against  the  pressure 
into  the  boiler.  All  these  things  he  has  to 
do  repeatedly  even  on  a  short  run. 

The  engineer — or  "runner,"  as  he  is  called  by 
his  fellows — has  much  to  do  also,  and  has  infi- 
nitely greater  responsibility.  On  him  depends 
the  safety  and  the  comfort  of  the  passengers 
to  a  large  degree;  he  must  nurse  his  engine  to 
produce  the  greatest  speed  at  the  least  cost  of 
coal,  and  he  must  round  the  curves,  climb  the 
grades,  and  make  the  slow-downs  and  stops 
so  gradually  that  the  passengers  will  not  be 
disturbed. 

To  the  outsider  who  rides  in  a  locomotive- 
cab  for  the  first  time  it  seems  as  if  the  engineer 
settles  down  to  his  real  work  with  a  sigh  of  relief 
when  the  limits  of  the  city  have  been  passed; 
for  in  the  towns  there  are  many  signals  to  be 
watched,  many  crossings  to  be  looked  out  for, 
and  a  multitude  of  moving  trains,  snorting 
engines,  and  tooting  whistles  to  distract  one's 
attention.  The  "runner, "  however,  seemed  not 
to  mind  it  at  all.  He  pulled  on  his  cap  a  little 
more  firmly,  and,  after  glancing  at  his  watch, 
reached  out  for  the  throttle  handle.  A  very 
little  pull  satisfied  him,  and  though  the  increase 
in  speed  was  hardly  perceptible,  the  more  rapid 
exhaust  told  the  story  of  faster  movement. 
56 


HOW  A   FAST   TRAIN  IS  RUN 

As  the  train  sped  on,  the  engineer  moved  the 
reversing-lever  notch  by  notch  nearer  the  centre 
of  the  guide.  This  adjusted  the  "link-motion" 
mechanism,  which  is  operated  by  the  driving- 
axle,  and  cut  off  the  steam  entering  the  cylin- 
ders in  such  a  way  that  it  expanded  more 
fully  and  economically,  thus  saving  fuel  without 
loss  of  power. 

When  a  station  was  reached,  when  a  "caution" 
signal  was  displayed,  or  whenever  any  one  of 
the  hundred  or  more  things  occurred  that  might 
require  a  stop  or  a  slow-down,  the  engineer 
closed  down  the  throttle  and  very  gradually 
opened  the  air-brake  valve  that  admitted  com- 
pressed air  to  the  brake-cylinders,  not  only  on 
the  locomotive  but  on  all  the  cars.  The  speed 
of  the  train  slackened  steadily  but  without  jar, 
until  the  power  of  the  compressed  air  clamped 
the  brake-shoes  on  the  wheels  so  tightly  that 
they  were  practically  locked  and  the  train  was 
stopped.  By  means  of  the  air-brake  the  engi- 
neer had  almost  entire  control  of  the  train. 
The  pump  that  compresses  the  air  is  on  the 
engine,  and  keeps  the  pressure  in  the  car  and 
locomotive  reservoirs  automatically  up  to  the 
required  standard. 

Each  stage  of  every  trip  of  a  train  not  a 
freight  is  carefully  charted,  and  the  engineer  is 
57 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

provided  with  a  time-table  that  shows  where  his 
train  should  be  at  a  given  time.  It  is  a  matter 
of  pride  with  the  engineers  of  fast  trains  to  keep 
close  to  their  schedules,  and  their  good  records 
depend  largely  on  this  running- time,  but  delays 
of  various  kinds  creep  in,  and  in  spite  of  their  best 
efforts  engineers  are  not  always  able  to  make 
all  their  schedules.  To  arrive  at  their  desti- 
nations on  time,  therefore,  certain  sections  must 
be  covered  in  better  than  schedule  time,  and 
then  great  skill  is  required  to  get  the  speed 
without  a  sacrifice  of  comfort  for  the  passenger. 
To  most  travellers  time  is  more  valuable  than 
money,  and  so  everything  about  a  train  is 
planned  to  facilitate  rapid  travelling.  Almost 
every  part  of  a  locomotive  is  controlled  from  the 
cab,  which  prevents  unnecessary  stopping  to  cor- 
rect defects;  from  his  seat  the  engineer  can  let 
the  condensed  water  out  of  the  cylinders;  he 
can  start  a  jet  of  steam  in  the  stack  and  create 
a  draft  through  the  fire-box;  by  the  pressure 
of  a  lever  he  is  able  to  pour  sand  on  a  slippery 
track,  or  by  the  manipulation  of  another  lever 
a  snow-scraper  is  let  down  from  the  cowcatcher. 
The  practised  ear  of  a  locomotive  engineer  often 
enables  him  to  discover  defects  in  the  working 
of  his  powerful  machine,  and  he  is  generally  able, 
with  the  aid  of  various  devices  always  on 

53 


HOW  A   FAST   TRAIN  IS  RUN 

hand,  to  prevent  an  increase  of  trouble  without 
leaving  the  cab. 

As  explained  above,  a  fast  run  means  the 
use  of  a  great  deal  of  steam  and  therefore  water ; 
indeed,  the  higher  the  speed  the  greater  con- 
sumption of  water.  Often  the  schedules  do 
not  allow  time  enough  to  stop  for  water,  and 
the  consumption  is  so  great  that  it  is  impossible 
to  carry  enough  to  keep  the  engine  going  to  the 
end  of  the  run.  There  are  provided,  therefore, 
at  various  places  along  the  line,  tanks  eighteen 
inches  to  two  feet  wide,  six  inches  deep,  and  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  long.  These  are  filled  with 
water  and  serve  as  long,  narrow  reservoirs,  from 
which  the  locomotive-tenders  are  filled  while 
going  at  almost  full  speed.  Curved  pipes  are 
let  down  into  the  track-tank  as  the  train 
speeds  on,  and  scoop  up  the  water  so  fast  that 
the  great  reservoirs  are  very  quickly  filled. 
This  operation,  too,  is  controlled  from  the 
engine-cab,  and  it  is  one  of  the  fireman's 
duties  to  let  down  the  pipe  when  the  water- 
signal  alongside  the  track  appears.  The  locomo- 
tive, when  taking  water  from  a  track-tank, 
looks  as  if  it  was  going  through  a  river:  the 
water  is  dashed  into  spray  and  flies  out  on  either 
side  like  the  waves  before  a  fast  boat.  Train- 
men tell  the  story  of  a  tramp  who  stole  a  ride 
59 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

on  the  front  or  "dead"  end  platform  of  the  bag- 
gage car  of  a  fast  train.  This  car  was  coupled 
to  the  rear  end  of  the  engine-tender;  it  was  quite 
a  long  run,  without  stops,  and  the  engine  took 
water  from  a  track-tank  on  the  way.  When 
the  train  stopped,  the  tramp  was  discovered 
prone  on  the  platform  of  the  baggage  car,  half- 
drowned  from  the  water  thrown  back  when 
the  engine  took  its  drink  on  the  run. 

"Here,  get  off!"  growled  the  brakeman. 
"What  are  you  doing  there?" 

"All  right,  boss,"  sputtered  the  tramp. 
"Say,"  he  asked  after  a  moment,  "what  was 
that  river  we  went  through  a  while  ago?" 

Though  the  engineer's  work  is  not  hard,  the 
strain  is  great,'  and  fast  runs  are  divided  up 
into  sections  so  that  no  one  engine  or  its 
runner  has  to  work  more  than  three  or  four 
hours  at  a  time. 

It  is  realised  that  in  order  to  keep  the  train- 
men— and  especially  the  engineers — alert  and 
keenly  alive  to  their  work  and  responsibilities, 
it  is  necessary  to  make  the  periods  of  labour 
short;  the  same  thing  is  found  to  apply  to  the 
machines  also — they  need  rest  to  keep  them 
perfectly  fit. 

Before  the  engineer  can  run  his  train,  the  way 
must  be  cleared  for  him,  and  when  the  train 
60 


TRACK  TANK 


RAILROAD   SEMAPHORE   SIGNALS 


HOW  A   FAST   TRAIN  IS  RUN 

starts  out  it  becomes  part  of  a  vast  system. 
Each  part  of  this  intricate  system  is  affected  by 
every  other  part,  so  each  train  must  run  accord- 
ing to  schedule  or  disarrange  the  entire  plan. 

Each  train  has  its  right-of-way  over  certain 
other  trains,  and  the  fastest  train  has  the  right- 
of-way  over  all  others.  If,  for  any  reason,  the 
fastest  train  is  late,  all  others  that  might  be  in 
the  way  must  wait  till  the  flyer  has  passed. 
When  anything  of  this  sort  occurs  the  whole 
plan  has  to  be  changed,  and  all  trains  have 
to  be  run  on  a  new  schedule  that  must  be  made 
up  on  the  moment.  #„, 

The  ideal  train  schedules,  or  those  by  which 
the  systems  are  regularly  governed,  are  charted 
out  beforehand  on  a  rifled  sheet,  as  a  ship's 
course  is  charted  on  a  voyage,  in  the  main  office 
of  the  railroad.  Each  engineer  and  conductor 
is  provided  with  a  printed  copy  in  the  form  of  a 
table  giving  the  time  of  departure  and  arrival 
at  the  different  points.  When  the  trains  run 
on  time  it  is  all  very  simple,  and  the  work  of 
the  despatcher,  the  man  who  keeps  track  of  the 
trains,  is  easy.  When,  however,  the  system 
is  disarranged  by  the  failure  of  a  train  to 
keep  to  its  schedule,  the  despatcher 's  work 
becomes  most  difficult.  From  long  training 
the  despatchers  become  perfectly  familiar  with 
61 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

every  detail  of  the  sections  of  road  under  their 
control,  the  position  of  every  switch,  each 
station,  all  curves,  bridges,  grades,  and  crossings. 
When  a  train  is  delayed  and  the  system 
spoiled,  it  is  the  despatcher's  duty  to  make  up 
another  one  on  the  spot,  and  arrange  by  tele- 
grams, which  are  repeated  for  fear  of  mistakes, 
for  the  holding  of  this  train  and  the  movement 
of  others  until  the  tangle  is  straightened  out. 
This  problem  is  particularly  difficult  when  a 
road  has  but  one  track  and  trains  moving  in 
both  directions  have  to  run  on  the  same  pair 
of  rails.  It  is  on  roads  of  this  sort  that 
most  of  the  accidents  occur.  Almost  if  not 
quite  all  depends  on  the  clear-headedness  and 
quick-witted  grasp  of  the  despatchers  and 
strict  obedience  to  orders  by  the  trainmen. 
To  remove  as  much  chance  of  error  as  possible, 
safety  signalling  methods  have  been  devised  to 
warn  the  engineer  of  danger  ahead.  Many 
modern  railroads  are  divided  into  short  sections 
or  "blocks, "  each  of  which  is  presided  over  by  a 
signal-tower.  At  the  beginning  of  each  block 
stand  poles  with  projecting  arms  that  are  con- 
nected with  the  signal-tower  by  wires  running 
over  pulleys.  There  are  generally  two  to  each 
track  in  each  block,  and  when  both  are  slant- 
ing downward  the  engineer  of  the  approaching 
62 


HOW  A   FAST  TRAIN  IS  RUN 

locomotive  knows  that  the  block  he  is  about 
to  enter  is  clear  and  also  that  the  rails  of  the 
section  before  that  is  clear  as  well.  The  lower 
arm,  or  "semaphore,"  stands  for  the  second 
block,  and  if  it  is  horizontal  the  engineer  knows 
that  he  must  proceed  cautiously  because  the 
second  section  already  has  a  train  in  it ;  if  the 
upper  arm  is  straight  the  "runner"  knows  that 
a  train  or  obstruction  of  some  sort  makes  it 
unsafe  to  enter  the  first  block,  and  if  he  obeys 
the  strict  rules  he  must  stay  where  he  is  until 
the  arm  is  lowered  At  night,  red,  white,  and 
green  lights  serve  instead  of  the  arms: 
white,  safety;  green,  caution;  and  red,  danger. 
Accidents  have  sometimes  occurred  because 
the  engineers  were  colour-blind  and  red  and  green 
looked  alike  to  them.  Most  roads  nowadays 
test  all  their  engineers  for  this  defect  in  vision. 
In  spite  of  all  precautions,  it  sometimes 
happens  that  the  block-signals  are  not  set 
properly,  and  to  avoid  danger  of  rear-end  colli- 
sions, conductors  and  brakemen  are  instructed 
(when,  for  any  reason,  their  train  stops  where 
it  is  not  so  scheduled)  to  go  back  with  lanterns 
at  night,  or  flags  by  day,  and  be  ready  to  warn 
any  following  train.  If  for  any  reason  a  train 
is  delayed  and  has  to  move  ahead  slowly, 
torpedoes  are  placed  on  the  track  which  are 
63 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

exploded  by  the  engine  that  comes  after  and 
warn  its  engineer  to  proceed  cautiously. 

All  these  things  the  engineer  must  bear  in 
mind,  and  beside  his  jockey-like  handling  of  his 
iron  horse,  he  must  watch  for  signals  that  flash 
by  in  an  instant  when  he  is  going  at  full  speed, 
and  at  the  same  time  keep  a  sharp  lookout 
ahead  for  obstructions  on  the  track  and  for 
damaged  roadbed. 

The  conductor  has  nothing  to  do  with  the 
mechanical  running  of  the  train,  though  he 
receives  the  orders  and  is,  in  a  general  way, 
responsible.  The  passengers  are  his  special 
care,  and  it  is  his  business  to  see  that  their 
getting  on  and  off  is  in  accordance  with  their 
tickets.  He  is  responsible  for  their  comfort 
also,  and  must  be  an  animated  information 
bureau,  loaded  with  facts  about  every  conceiv- 
able thing  connected  with  travel.  The  brake- 
men  are  his  assistants,  and  stay  with  him  to  the 
end  of  the  division;  the  engineer  and  fireman, 
with  their  engine,  are  cut  off  at  the  end  of 
their  division  also. 

The  fastest  train  of  a  road  is  the  pride  of  all 
its  employees ;  all  the  trainmen  aspire  to  a  place 
on  the  flyer.  It  never  starts  out  on  any  run 
without  the  good  wishes  of  the  entire  force,  and 
it  seldom  puffs  out  of  the  train-shed  and  over 
64 


,    UNIVERSITY   ) 


HOW  A   FAST   TRAIN  IS  RUN 

the  maze  of  rails  in  the  yard  without  receiving 
the  homage  of  those  who  happen  to  be  within 
sight.  It  is  impossible  to  tell  of  all  the  things 
that  enter  into  the  running  of  a  fast  train,  but 
as  it  flashes  across  States,  intersects  cities, 
thunders  past  humble  stations,  and  whistles 
imperiously  at  crossings,  it  attracts  the  atten- 
tion of  all.  It  is  the  spectacular  thing  that 
makes  fame  for  the  road,  appears  in  large  type 
in  the  newspapers,  and  makes  havoc  with  the 
time-tables,  while  the  steady-going  passenger 
trains  and  labouring  freights  do  the  work  and 
make  the  money. 


HOW  AUTOMOBILES  WORK 


HOW  AUTOMOBILES  WORK 

EVERY  boy  and  almost  every  man  has 
longed  to  ride  on  a  locomotive,  and  has 
dreamed  of  holding  the  throttle-lever  and  of 
feeling  the  great  machine  move  under  him 
in  answer  to  his  will.  Many  of  us  have  pro- 
tested vigorously  that  we  wanted  to  become 
grimy,  hard-working  firemen  for  the  sake  of 
having  to  do  with  the  "iron  horse." 

It  is  this  joy  of  control  that  comes  to  the 
driver  of  an  automobile  which  is  one  of  the 
motor-car's  chief  attractions:  it  is  the  longing 
of  the  boy  to  run  a  locomotive  reproduced  in 
the  grown-up. 

The  ponderous,  snorting,  thundering  loco- 
motive, towering  high  above  its  steel  road,  seems 
far  removed  from  the  swift,  crouching,  almost 
noiseless  motor-car,  and  yet  the  relationship 
is  very  close.  In  fact,  the  automobile,  which 
is  but  a  locomotive  that  runs  at  will  anywhere, 
is  the  father  of  the  greater  machine. 

About  the  beginning  of  1800,  self-propelled 
vehicles  steamed  along  the  roads  of  Old  England, 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

carrying  passengers  safely,  if  not  swiftly,  and, 
strange  to  say,  continued  to  run  more  or  less 
successfully  until  prohibited  by  law  from 
using  the  highways,  because  of  their  inter- 
ference with  the  horse  traffic.  Therefore  the 
locomotive  and  the  railroads  throve  at  the 
expense  of  the  automobile,  and  the  perma- 
nent iron-bound  right  of  way  of  the  railroads 
left  the  highways  to  the  horse. 

The  old-time  automobiles  were  cumbrous 
affairs,  with  clumsy  boilers,  and  steam-engines 
that  required  one  man's  entire  attention  to 
keep  them  going.  The  concentrated  fuels 
were  not  known  in  those  days,  and  heat- 
economising  appliances  were  not  invented. 

It  was  the  invention  by  Gottlieb  Daimler 
of  the  high-speed  gasoline  engine,  in  1885,  that 
really  gave  an  impetus  to  the  building  of 
efficient  automobiles  of  all  powers.  The  success 
of  his  explosive  gasoline  engine,  forerunner 
of  all  succeeding  gasoline  motor-car  engines, 
was  the  incentive  to  inventors  to  perfect  the 
steam-engine  for  use  on  self-propelled  vehicles. 

Unlike  a  locomotive,  the  automobile  must 
be  light,  must  be  able  to  carry  power  or  fuel 
enough  to  drive  it  a  long  distance,  and  yet  must 
be  almost  automatic  in  its  workings.  All  of 
these  things  the  modern  motor  car  accom- 
70 


HOW  AUTOMOBILES   WORK 

plishes,  but  the  struggle  to  make  the  machinery 
more  efficient  still  continues. 

The  three  kinds  of  power  used  to  run  auto- 
mobiles are  steam,  electricity,  and  gasoline, 
taken  in  the  order  of  application.  The  steam- 
engines  in  motor-cars  are  not  very  different 
from  the  engines  used  to  run  locomotives, 
factory  machinery,  or  street-rollers,  but  they 
are  much  lighter  and,  of  course,  smaller — very 
much  smaller  in  proportion  to  the  power  they 
produce.  It  will  be  seen  how  compact  and 
efficient  these  little  steam  plants  are  when 
a  ten-horse-power  engine,  boiler,  water-tank, 
and  gasoline  reservoir  holding  enough  to  drive 
the  machine  one  hundred  miles,  are  stored  in  a 
carriage  with  a  wheel-base  of  less  than  seven 
feet  and  a  width  of  five  feet,  and  still  leave 
ample  room  for  four  passengers. 

It  is  the  use  of  gasoline  for  fuel  that  makes 
all  this  possible.  Gasoline,  being  a  very  volatile 
liquid,  turns  into  a  highly  inflammable  gas 
when  heated  and  mixed  with  the  oxygen  in 
the  air.  A  tank  holding  from  twenty  to  forty 
gallons  of  gasoline  is  connected,  through  an 
automatic  regulator  which  controls  the  flow  of 
oil,  to  a  burner  under  the  boiler.  The  burner 
allows  the  oil,  which  turns  into  gas  on  coming  in 
contact  with  its  hot  surface,  to  escape  through  a 
7* 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

multitude  of  small  openings  and  mix  with  the 
air,  which  is  supplied  from  beneath.  The 
openings  are  so  many  and  so  close  together 
that  the  whole  surface  is  practically  one  solid 
sheet  of  very  hot  blue  flame.  In  getting  up 
steam  a  separate  blaze  or  flame  of  alcohol  or 
gasoline  is  made,  which  heats  the  steel  or  iron 
with  which  the  fuel-oil  comes  in  contact  until 
it  is  sufficiently  hot  to  turn  the  oil  to  gas, 
after  which  the  burner  works  automatically. 
A  hand  air-pump  or  one  automatically  operated 
by  the  engine  maintains  sufficient  air  pressure 
in  the  fuel-tank  to  keep  a  constant  flow. 

Most  steam  automobile  boilers  are  of  the 
water-tube  variety — that  is,  water  to  be  turned 
into  steam  is  carried  through  the  flames  in 
pipes,  instead  of  the  heat  in  pipes  through  the 
water,  as  in  the  ordinary  flue  boilers.  Com- 
pactness, quick-heating,  and  strength  are  the 
characteristics  of  motor-car  boilers.  Some  of 
the  boilers  are  less  than  twenty  inches  high 
and  of  the  same  diameter,  and  yet  are  capable 
of  generating  seven  and  one-half  horse-power 
at  a  high  steam  pressure  (150  to  200  pounds). 
In  these  boilers  the  heat  is  made  to  play  directly 
on  a  great  many  tubes,  and  a  full  head  of  steam 
is  generated  in  a  few  minutes.  As  the  steam 
pressure  increases,  a  regulator  that  shuts  off 
72 


HOW  AUTOMOBILES   WORK 

the  supply  of  gasoline  is  operated  automatically, 
and  so  the  pressure  is  maintained. 

The  water  from  which  the  steam  is  made  is 
also  fed  automatically  into  the  boiler,  when 
the  engine  is  in  motion,  by  a  pump  worked 
by  the  engine  piston.  A  hand-pump  is  also 
supplied  by  which  the  driver  can  keep  the  proper 
amount  when  the  machine  is  still  or  in  case  of 
a  breakdown.  A  water-gauge  in  plain  sight 
keeps  the  driver  informed  at  all  times  as  to 
the  amount  of  water  in  the  boiler.  From  the 
boiler  the  steam  goes  through  the  throttle- valve 
— the  handle  of  which  is  by  the  driver's  side 
— direct  to  the  engine,  and  there  expands, 
pushes  the  piston  up  and  down,  and  by  means 
of  a  crank  on  the  axle  does  its  work. 

The  engines  of  modern  automobiles  are  mar- 
vels of  compactness — so  compact,  indeed,  that 
a  seven-horse-power  engine  occupies  much  less 
space  than  an  ordinary  barrel.  The  steam,  after 
being  used,  is  admitted  to  a  coil  of  pipes 
cooled  by  the  breeze  caused  by  the  motion  of 
the  vehicle,  and  so  condensed  into  water  and 
returned  to  the  tank.  The  engine  is  started, 
stopped,  slowed,  and  sped  by  the  cutting  off 
or  admission  of  the  steam  through  the  throttle- 
valve.  It  is  reversed  by  means  of  the  same 
mechanism  used  on  locomotives — the  link- 

73 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

motion  and  reversing-lever,  by  which  the 
direction  of  the  steam  is  reversed  and  the 
engine  made  to  run  the  other  way. 

After  doing  its  work  the  steam  is  made  to 
circulate  round  the  cylinder  (or  cylinders,  if 
there  are  more  than  one),  keeping  it  extra  hot 
—"superheated";  and  thereafter  it  is  made  to 
perform  a  like  duty  to  the  boiler-feed  water, 
before  it  is  allowed  to  escape. 

All  steam-propelled  automobiles,  from  the 
light  steam  runabout  to  the  clumsy  steam 
roller,  are  worked  practically  as  described. 
Some  machines  are  worked  by  compound 
engines,  which  simply  use  the  power  of  expan- 
sion still  left  in  the  steam  in  a  second  larger 
cylinder  after  it  has  worked  the  first,  in  which 
case  every  ounce  of  power  is  extracted  from 
the  vapour. 

The  automobile  builders  have  a  problem 
that  troubles  locomotive  builders  very  little — 
that  is,  compensating  the  difference  between 
the  speeds  of  the  two  driving-wheels  when 
turning  corners.  Just  as  the  inside  man  of  a 
military  company  takes  short  steps  when 
turning  and  the  outside  man  takes  long  ones, 
so  the  inside  wheel  of  a  vehicle  turns  slowly 
while  the  outside  wheel  revolves  quickly  when 
rounding  a  corner.  As  most  automobiles  are 
74 


HOW  AUTOMOBILES  WORK 

propelled  by  power  applied  to  the  rear  axle, 
to  which  the  wheels  are  fixed,  it  is  manifest 
that  unless  some  device  were  made  to  correct 
the  fault  one  wheel  would  have  to  slide  while 
the  other  revolved.  This  difficulty  has  been 
overcome  by  cutting  the  axle  in  two  and  placing 
between  the  ends  a  series  of  gears  which  permit 
the  two  wheels  to  revolve  at  different  speeds 
and  also  apply  the  power  to  both  alike.  This 
device  is  called  a  compensating  gear,  and  is 
worked  out  in  various  ways  by  the  different 
builders. 

The  locomotive  builder  accomplishes  the 
same  thing  by  making  his  wheels  larger  on 
the  outside,  so  that  in  turning  the  wide  curves 
of  the  railroad  the  whole  machine  slides  to  the 
inside,  bringing  to  bear  the  large  diameter 
of  the  outer  wheel  and  the  small  diameter  of 
the  inner,  the  wheels  being  fixed  to  a  solid 
axle. 

The  steam  machine  can  always  be  dis- 
tinguished by  the  thin  stream  of  white  vapour 
that  escapes  from  the  rear  or  underneath  while 
it  is  in  motion  and  also,  as  a  rule,  when  it  is 
at  rest. 

The  motor  of  a  steam  vehicle  always  stops 
when  the  machine  is  not  moving,  which  is 
another  distinguishing  feature,  as  the  gasoline 
75 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

motors  run  continually,  or  at  least  unless  the 
car  is  left  standing  for  a  long  time. 

As  the  owners  of  different  makes  of  bicycles 
formerly  wrangled  over  the  merits  of  their 
respective  machines,  so  now  motor-car  owners 
discuss  the  value  of  the  different  powers — 
steam,  gasoline,  and  electricity. 

Though  steam  was  the  propelling  force  of 
the  earliest  automobiles,  and  the  power  best 
understood,  it  was  the  perfection  of  the  gasoline 
motor  that  revived  the  interest  in  self-propelled 
vehicles  and  set  the  inventors  to  work. 

A  gasoline  motor  is  somewhat  like  a  gun — 
the  explosion  of  the  gas  in  the  motor-cylinder 
pushes  the  piston  (which  may  be  likened  to  the 
projectile),  and  the  power  thus  generated  turns 
a  crank  and  drives  the  wheels. 

The  gasoline  motor  is  the  lightest  power- 
generator  that  has  yet  been  discovered,  and 
it  is  this  characteristic  that  makes  it  particu- 
larly valuable  to  propel  automobiles.  Santos- 
Dumont's  success  in  aerial  navigation  is  due 
largely  to  the  gasoline  motor,  which  generated 
great  power  in  proportion  to  its  weight. 

A  gasoline  motor  works  by  a  series  of 
explosions,  which  make  the  noise  that  is  now 
heard  on  every  hand.  From  the  gasoline 
tank,  which  is  always  of  sufficient  capacity  for 


HOW  AUTOMOBILES   WORK 

a  good  long  run,  a  pipe  is  connected  with  a 
device  called  the  carbureter.  This  is  really 
a  gas  machine,  for  it  turns  the  liquid  oil  into 
gas,  this  being  done  by  turning  it  into  fine 
spray  and  mixing  it  with  pure  air.  The  gaso- 
line vapour  thus  formed  is  highly  inflammable, 
and  if  lighted  in  a  closed  space  will  explode. 
It  is  the  explosive  power  that  is  made  to  do  the 
work,  and  it  is  a  series  of  small  gun-fires  that 
make  the  gasoline  motor-car  go. 

All  this  sounds  simple  enough,  but  a  great 
many  things  must  be  considered  that  make 
the  construction  of  a  successful  working  motor 
a  difficult  problem. 

In  the  first  place,  the  carbureter,  which 
turns  the  oil  into  gas,  must  work  automatically, 
the  proper  amount  of  oil  being  fed  into  the 
machine  and  the  exact  proportion  of  air 
admitted  for  the  successful  mixture.  Then 
the  gas  must  be  admitted  to  the  cylinders 
in  just  the  right  quantity  for  the  work  to  be 
done.  This  is  usually  regulated  automatically, 
and  can  also  be  controlled  directly  by  the 
driver.  Since  the  explosion  of  gas  in  the 
cylinder  drives  the  piston  out  only,  and  not, 
as  in  the  case  of  the  steam-engine,  back  and 
forward,  some  provision  must  be  made  to 
complete  the  cycle,  to  bring  back  the  piston, 
77 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

exhaust  the  burned  gas,  and  refill  the  cylinder 
with  a  new  charge. 

In  the  steam-engine  the  piston  is  forced  back- 
ward and  forward  by  the  expansive  power  of  the 
steam,  the  vapour  being  admitted  alternately 
to  the  forward  and  rear  ends  of  the  cylinder. 
The  piston  of  the  gasoline  engine,  however, 
working  by  the  force  of  exploded  gas,  produces 
power  when  moving  in  one  direction  only — 
the  piston-head  is  pushed  out  by  the  force  of 
the  explosion,  just  as  the  plunger  of  a  bicycle 
pump  is  sometimes  forced  out  by  the  pressure  of 
air  behind  it.  The  piston  is  connected  with 
the  engine-crank  and  revolves  the  shaft,  which 
is  in  turn  connected  with  the  driving-wheels. 
The  movement  of  the  piston  in  the  cylinder 
performs  four  functions:  first,  the  downward 
stroke,  the  result  of  the  explosion  of  gas,  pro- 
duces the  power;  second,  the  returning 
up-stroke  pushes  out  the  burned  gas;  third, 
the  next  down-stroke  sucks  in  a  fresh  supply 
of  gas,  which  (fourth)  is  compressed  by  the 
following-up  movement  and  is  ready  for  the 
next  explosion.  This  is  called  a  two-cycle 
motor,  because  two  complete  revolutions  are 
necessary  to  accomplish  all  the  operations. 
Many  machines  are  fitted  with  heavy  fly- 
wheels, the  swift  revolution  of  which  carries 

78 


HOW  AUTOMOBILES   WORK 

the  impetus  of  the  power  stroke  through  the 
other  three  operations. 

To  keep  a  practically  continuous  forward 
movement  on  the  driving-shaft,  many  motors 
are  made  with  four  cylinders,  the  piston  of 
each  being  connected  with  the  crank-shaft  at 
a  different  angle,  and  each  cylinder  doing  a 
different  part  of  the  work;  for  example,  while 
No.  i  cylinder  is  doing  the  work  from  the  force 
of  the  explosion,  No.  2  is  compressing,  No.  3  is 
getting  a  fresh  supply  of  gas,  and  No.  4  is 
cleaning  out  waste  gas.  A  four-cylinder  motor 
is  practically  putting  forth  power  continuously, 
since  one  of  the  four  pistons  is  always  at  work. 

While  this  takes  long  to  describe,  the  motion 
is  faster  than  the  eye  can  follow,  and  the  "phut, 
phut"  noise  of  the  exhaust  sounds  like  the 
tattoo  of  a  drum.  Almost  every  gasoline  motor 
vehicle  carries  its  own  electric  plant,  either  a 
set  of  batteries  or  more  commonly  a  little 
magneto  dynamo,  which  is  run  by  the  shaft 
of  the  motor.  Electricity  is  used  to  make  the 
spark  that  explodes  the  gas  at  just  the  right 
moment  in  the  cylinders.  All  this  is  automatic, 
though  sometimes  the  driver  has  to  resort  to 
the  persuasive  qualities  of  a  monkey-wrench 
and  an  oil-can. 

The  exploding  gas  creates  great  heat,  and 
79 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

unless  something  is  done  to  cool  the  cylinders 
they  get  so  hot  that  the  gas  is  ignited  by  the 
heat  of  the  metal.  Some  motors  are  cooled 
by  a  stream  of  water  which,  flowing  round  the 
cylinders  and  through  coils  of  pipe,  is  blown 
upon  by  the  breeze  made  by  the  movement  of 
the  vehicle.  Others  are  kept  cool  by  a  revolving 
fan  geared  to  the  driving-shaft,  which  blows  on 
the  cylinders;  while  still  others — small  motors 
used  on  motor  bicycles,  generally — have  wide 
ridges  or  projections  on  the  outside  of  the 
cylinders  to  catch  the  wind  as  the  machine 
rushes  along. 

The  inventors  of  the  gasoline  motor  vehicles 
had  many  difficulties  to  overcome  that  did  not 
trouble  those  who  had  to  deal  with  steam. 
For  instance,  the  gasoline  motor  cannot  be 
started  as  easily  as  a  steam-engine.  It  is 
necessary  to  make  the  driving-shaft  revolve 
a  few  times  by  hand  in  order  to  start  the 
cylinders  working  in  their  proper  order.  There- 
fore, the  motor  of  a  gasoline  machine  goes 
all  the  time,  even  when  the  vehicle  is  at  rest. 
Friction  clutches  are  used  by  which  the  driving- 
shaft  and  the  axles  can  be  connected  or  dis- 
connected at  the  will  of  the  driver,  so  that  the 
vehicle  can  stand  while  the  motor  is  running; 
friction  clutches  are  used  also  to  throw  in 
80 


OF  THC 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


HOW  AUTOMOBILES   WORK 

gears  of  different  sizes  to  increase  or  decrease 
the  speed  of  the  vehicle,  as  well  as  to  drive 
backward. 

The  early  gasoline  automobiles  sounded, 
when  moving,  like  an  artillery  company  com- 
ing full  tilt  down  a  badly  paved  street.  The 
exhausted  gas  coughed  resoundingly,  the  gears 
groaned  and  shrieked  loudly  when  improperly 
lubricated,  and  the  whole  machine  rattled 
like  a  runaway  tin-peddler.  Ingenious  mufflers 
have  subdued  the  sputtering  exhaust,  the  gears 
are  made  to  run  in  oil  or  are  so  carefully  cut 
as  to  mesh  perfectly,  rubber  tires  deaden  the 
pounding  of  the  wheels,  and  carefully  designed 
frames  take  up  the  jar. 

Steam  and  gasoline  vehicles  can  be  used  to 
travel  long  distances  from  the  cities,  for  water 
can  be  had  and  gasoline  bought  almost  any- 
where; but  electric  automobiles,  driven  by  the 
third  of  the  three  powers  used  for  self-propelled 
vehicles,  must  keep  within  easy  reach  of  the 
charging  stations. 

Just  as  the  perfection  of  the  gasoline  motor 
spurred  on  the  inventors  to  adapt  the  steam- 
engine  for  use  in  automobiles,  so  the  inventors 
of  the  storage  battery,  which  is  the  heart  of  an 
electric  carriage,  were  stirred  up  to  make  electric 
propulsion  practical. 

81 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

The  storage  battery  of  an  electric  vehicle 
is  practically  a  tank  that  holds  electricity; 
the  electrical  energy  of  the  dynamo  is  trans- 
formed into  chemical  energy  in  the  batteries, 
which  in  turn  is  changed  into  electrical  energy 
again  and  used  to  run  the  motors. 

Electric  automobiles  are  the  most  simple  of 
all  the  self-propelled  vehicles.  The  current 
stored  in  the  batteries  is  simply  turned  off  and 
on  the  motors,  or  the  pressure  reduced  by  means 
of  resistance  which  obstructs  the  flow,  and  there- 
fore the  power,  of  the  current.  To  reverse, 
it  is  only  necessary  to  change  the  direction 
of  the  current's  flow;  and  in  order  to  stop, 
the  connection  between  motor  and  battery  is 
broken  by  a  switch. 

Electricity  is  the  ideal  power  for  automobiles. 
Being  clean  and  easily  controlled,  it  seems  just 
the  thing;  but  it  is  expensive,  and  sometimes 
hard  to  get.  No  satisfactory  substitute  has 
been  found  for  it,  however,  in  the  larger  cities, 
and  it  may  be  that  creative  or  "primary" 
batteries  both  cheap  and  effective  will  be 
invented  and  will  do  away  with  the  one  objection 
to  electricity  for  automobiles. 

The  astonishing  things  of  to-day  are  the 
commonplaces  of  to-morrow,  and  so  the 
achievements  of  automobile  builders  as  here 
82 


HOW  AUTOMOBILES   WORK 

set  down  may  be  greatly  surpassed  by  the  time 
this  appears  in  print. 

The  sensations  of  the  locomotive  engineer, 
who  feels  his  great  machine  strain  forward  over 
the  smooth  steel  rails,  are  as  nothing  to  the 
almost  numbing  sensations  of  the  automobile 
driver  who  covered  space  at  the  rate  of  eighty- 
eight  miles  an  hour  on  the  road  between  Paris 
and  Madrid:  he  felt  every  inequality  in  the 
road,  every  grade  along  the  way,  and  each 
curve,  each  shadow,  was  a  menace  that 
required  the  greatest  nerve  and  skill.  Loco- 
motive driving  at  a  hundred  miles  an  hour 
is  but  mild  exhilaration  as  compared  to  the 
feelings  of  the  motor-car  driver  who  travels  at 
fifty  miles  an  hour  on  the  public  highway. 

Gigantic  motor  trucks  carrying  tons  of 
freight  twist  in  and  out  through  crowded 
streets,  controlled  by  one  man  more  easily  than 
a  driver  guides  a  spirited  horse  on  a  country 
road. 

Frail  motor  bicycles  dash  round  the  platter- 
like  curves  of  cycle  tracks  at  railroad  speed, 
and  climb  hills  while  the  riders  sit  at  ease  with 
feet  on  coasters. 

An  electric  motor-car  wends  the  streets  of 
New  York  every  day  with  thirty-five  or  forty 
sightseers  on  its  broad  back,  while  a  groom  in 
83 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

whipcord  blows  an  incongruous  coaching-horn 
in  the  rear. 

Motor  plows,  motor  ambulances,  motor 
stages,  delivery  wagons,  street-cars  without 
tracks,  pleasure  vehicles,  and  even  baby  car- 
riages, are  to  be  seen  everywhere. 

In  1845,  motor  vehicles  were  forbidden  the 
streets  for  the  sake  of  the  horses;  in  1903,  the 
horses  are  being  crowded  off  by  the  motor-cars. 
The  motor  is  the  more  economical — it  is  the 
survival  of  the  fittest. 


or  THI 
(  UNIVERSITY  ) 


THE  FASTEST  STEAMBOATS 


THE  FASTEST  STEAMBOATS 

TN  1807,  the  first  practical  steamboat  puffed 
•*•  slowly  up  the  Hudson,  while  the  people 
ranged  along  the  banks  gazed  in  wonder. 
Even  the  grim  walls  of  the  Palisades  must  have 
been  surprised  at  the  strange  intruder.  Robert 
Fulton's  Clermont  was  the  forerunner  of  the 
fleets  upon  fleets  of  power-driven  craft  that 
have  stemmed  the  currents  of  a  thousand 
streams  and  parted  the  waves  of  many  seas. 

The  Clermont  took  several  days  to  go  from 
New  York  to  Albany,  and  the  trip  was  the 
wonder  of  that  time. 

During  the  summer  of  1902  a  long,  slim, 
white  craft,  with  a  single  brass  smokestack 
and  a  low  deck-house,  went  gliding  up  the 
Hudson  with  a  kind  of  crouching  motion 
that  suggested  a  cat  ready  to  spring.  On  her 
deck  several  men  were  standing  behind  the 
pilot-house  with  stop-watches  in  their  hands. 
The  little  craft  seemed  alive  under  their  feet 
and  quivered  with  eagerness  to  be  off.  The 
passenger  boats  going  in  the  same  direction 

87 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

were  passed  in  a  twinkling,  and  the  tugs  and 
sailing  vessels  seemed  to  dwindle  as  houses 
and  trees  seem  to  shrink  when  viewed  from 
the  rear  platform  of  a  fast  train. 

Two  posts,  painted  white  and  in  line  with 
each  other — one  almost  at  the  river's  edge,  the 
other  150  feet  back — marked  the  starting-line 
of  a  measured  mile,  and  were  eagerly  watched 
by  the  men  aboard  the  yacht.  She  sped 
toward  the  starting-line  as  a  sprinter  dashes 
for  the  tape;  almost  instantly  the  two  posts 
were  in  line,  the  men  with  watches  cried ' '  Time ! " 
and  the  race  was  on.  Then  began  such  a 
struggle  with  Father  Time  as  was  never  before 
seen;  the  wind  roared  in  the  ears  of  the  pas- 
sengers and  snatched  their  words  away  almost 
before  their  lips  had  formed  them;  the  water, 
a  foam-flecked  streak,  dashed  away  from  the 
gleaming  white  sides  as  if  in  terror.  As  the 
wonderful  craft  sped  on  she  seemed  to  settle 
down  to  her  work  as  a  good  horse  finds  himself 
and  gets  into  his  stride.  Faster  and  faster 
she  went,  while  the  speed  of  her  going  swept  off 
the  black  flume  of  smoke  from  her  stack  and 
trailed  it  behind,  a  dense,  low-lying  shadow. 

"Look!"    shouted    one    of    the    men    into 
another's    ear,    and  raised    his   arm  to  point. 
"We're  beating  the  train!" 
88 


THE  FASTEST  STEAMBOATS 

Sure  enough,  a  passenger  train  running  along 
the  river's  edge,  the  wheels  spinning  round,  the 
locomotive  throwing  out  clouds  of  smoke,  was 
dropping  behind.  The  train  was  being  beaten 
by  the  boat.  Quivering,  throbbing  with  the 
tremendous  effort,  she  dashed  on,  the  water 
climbing  her  sides  and  lashing  to  spume 
at  her  stern. 

"Time!"  shouted  several  together,  as  the 
second  pair  of  posts  came  in  line,  marking  the 
finish  of  the  mile.  The  word  was  passed  to 
the  frantically  struggling  firemen  and  engineers 
below,  while  those  on  deck  compared  watches. 

"One  minute  and  thirty-two  seconds,"  said 
one. 

"Right,"  answered  the  others. 

Then,  as  the  wonderful  yacht  Arrow  gradually 
slowed  down,  they  tried  to  realise  the  speed 
and  to  accustom  themselves  to  the  fact  that 
they  had  made  the  fastest  mile  on  record  on 
water. 

And  so  the  Arrow,  moving  at  the  rate  of  forty- 
six  miles  an  hour,  followed  the  course  of  her 
ancestress,  the  Clermont,  when  she  made  her 
first  long  trip  almost  a  hundred  years  before. 

The  Clermont  was  the  first  practical  steam- 
boat, and  the  Arrow  the  fastest,  and  so  both 
were  record-breakers.  While  there  are  not 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

many  points  of  resemblance  between  the  first 
and  the  fastest  boat,  one  is  clearly  the  out- 
growth of  the  other,  but  so  vastly  improved 
is  the  modern  craft  that  it  is  hard  to  even  trace 
its  ancestry.  The  little  Arrow  is  a  screw-driven 
vessel,  and  her  reciprocating  engines — that  is, 
engines  operated  by  the  pulling  and  pushing 
power  of  the  steam-driven  pistons  in  cylinders 
— developed  the  power  of  4,000  horses,  equal 
to  32,000  men,  when  making  her  record- 
breaking  run.  All  this  enormous  power  was 
used  to  produce  speed,  there  being  practically 
no  room  left  in  the  little  130-foot  hull  for 
anything  but  engines  and  boilers. 

There  is  little  difference,  except  in  detail, 
between  the  Arrow 's  machinery  and  an  ordinary 
propeller  tugboat.  Her  hull  is  very  light  for 
its  strength,  and  it  was  so  built  as  to  slip  easily 
through  the  water.  She  has  twin  engines,  each 
operating  its  own  shaft  and  propeller.  These 
are  quadruple  expansion.  The  steam,  instead 
of  being  allowed  to  escape  after  doing  its  work 
in  the  first  cylinder,  is  turned  into  a  larger  one 
and  then  successively  into  two  more,  so  that  all 
of  its  expansive  power  is  used.  After  passing 
through  the  four  cylinders,  the  steam  is  con- 
densed into  water  again  by  turning  it  into  pipes 
around  which  circulates  the  cool  water  in  which 
90 


THE  FASTEST  STEAMBOATS 

the  vessel  floats.  The  steam  thus  condensed 
to  water  is  heated  and  pumped  into  the  boiler, 
to  be  turned  into  steam,  so  the  water  has  to 
do  its  work  many  times.  All  this  saves  weight 
and,  therefore,  power,  for  the  lighter  a  vessel 
is  the  more  easily  she  can  be  driven.  The 
boilers  save  weight  also  by  producing  steam  at 
the  enormous  pressure  of  400  pounds  to  the 
square  inch.  Steadily  maintained  pressure 
means  power;  the  greater  the  pressure  the  more 
the  power.  It  was  the  inventive  skill  of 
Charles  D.  Mosher,  who  has  built  many  fast 
yachts,  that  enabled  him  to  build  engines  and 
boilers  of  great  power  in  proportion  to  their 
weight.  It  was  the  ability  of  the  inventor 
to  build  boilers  and  engines  of  4,000  horse- 
power compact  and  light  enough  to  be  carried 
in  a  vessel  130  feet  long,  of  12  feet  6  inches 
breadth,  and  3  feet  6  inches  depth,  that  made 
it  possible  for  the  Arrow  to  go  a  mile  in  one 
minute  and  thirty-two  seconds.  The  speed 
of  the  wonderful  little  American  boat,  however, 
was  not  the  result  of  any  new  invention,  but 
was  due  to  the  perfection  of  old  methods. 

In  England,  about  five  years  before  the 
Arrow's  achievement,  a  little  torpedo-boat, 
scarcely  bigger  than  a  launch,  set  the  whole 
world  talking  by  travelling  at  the  rate  of  thirty- 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

nine  and  three-fourths  miles  an  hour.  The  little 
craft  seemed  to  disappear  in  the  white  smother 
of  her  wake,  and  those  who  watched  the  speed 
trial  marvelled  at  the  railroad  speed  she  made. 
The  Turbina — for  that  was  the  little  record- 
breaker's  name — was  propelled  by  a  new  kind 
of  engine,  and  her  speed  was  all  the  more 
remarkable  on  that  account.  C.  A.  Parsons,  the 
inventor  of  the  engine,  worked  out  the  idea  that 
inventors  have  been  studying  for  a  long  time — 
since  1629,  in  fact — that  is,  the  rotary  principle, 
or  the  rolling  movement  without  the  up-and- 
down  driving  mechanism  of  the  piston. 

The  Turbina  was  driven  by  a  number  of 
steam-turbines  that  worked  a  good  deal  like 
the  water-turbines  that  use  the  power  of 
Niagara.  Just  as  a  water-wheel  is  driven  by 
the  weight  or  force  of  the  water  striking  the 
blades  or  paddles  of  the  wheel,  so  the  force  of 
the  many  jets  of  steam  striking  against  the 
little  wings  makes  the  wheels  of  the  steam- 
turbines  revolve.  If  you  take  a  card  that  has 
been  cut  to  a  circular  shape  and  cut  the  edges 
so  that  little  wings  will  be  made,  then  blow 
on  this  winged  edge,  the  card  will  revolve  with 
a  buzz;  the  Parsons  steam-turbine  works  in 
the  same  way.  A  shaft  bearing  a  number  of 
steel  disks  or  wheels,  each  having  many  wings 
9* 


THE  FASTEST  STEAMBOATS 

set  at  an  angle  like  the  blades  of  a  propeller, 
is  enclosed  by  a  drumlike  casing.  The  disks 
at  one  end  of  the  shaft  are  smaller  than  those 
at  the  other;  the  steam  enters  at  the  small  end 
in  a  circle  of  jets  that  blow  against  the  wings 
and  set  them  and  the  whole  shaft  whirling. 
After  passing  the  first  disk  and  its  little  vanes, 
the  steam  goes  through  the  holes  of  an  inter- 
vening fixed  partition  that  deflects  it  so  that 
it  blows  afresh  on  the  second,  and  so  on  to  the 
third  and  fourth,  blowing  upon  a  succession  of 
wheels,  each  set  larger  than  the  preceding  one. 
Each  of  Parsons's  steam-turbine  engines  is  a 
series  of  turbines  put  in  a  steel  casing,  so  that 
they  use  every  ounce  of  the  expansive  power 
of  the  steam. 

It  will  be  noticed  that  the  little  wind-turbine 
that  you  blow  with  your  breath  spins  very 
rapidly;  so,  too,  do  the  wheels  spun  by  the 
steamy  breath  of  the  boilers,  and  Mr.  Parsons 
found  that  the  propeller  fastened  to  the  shaft 
of  his  engine  revolved  so  fast  that  a  vacuum 
was  formed  around  the  blades,  and  its  work 
was  not  half  done.  So  he  lengthened  his  shaft 
and  put  three  propellers  on  it,  reducing  the 
speed,  and  allowing  all  of  the  blades  to  catch 
the  water  strongly. 

The  Turbina,  speeding  like  an  express  train, 

93 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

glided  like  a  ghost  over  the  water;  the  smoke 
poured  from  her  stack  and  the  cleft  wave 
foamed  at  her  prow,  but  there  was  little  else 
to  remind  her  inventor  that  2,300  horse-power 
was  being  expended  to  drive  her.  There  was 
no  jar,  no  shock,  no  thumping  of  cylinders 
and  pounding  of  rapidly  revolving  cranks; 
the  motion  of  the  engine  was  rotary,  and  the 
propeller  shafts,  spinning  at  2,000  revolutions 
per  minute,  made  no  more  vibration  than  a 
windmill  whirling  in  the  breeze. 

To  stop  the  Turbina  was  an  easy  matter; 
Mr.  Parsons  had  only  to  turn  off  the  steam. 
But  to  make  the  vessel  go  backward  another 
set  of  turbines  was  necessary,  built  to  run  the 
other  way,  and  working  on  the  same  shaft. 
To  reverse  the  direction,  the  steam  was  shut  off 
the  engines  which  revolved  from  right  to  left 
and  turned  on  those  designed  to  run  backward, 
or  from  left  to  right.  One  set  of  the  turbines 
revolved  the  propellers  so  that  they  pushed, 
and  the  other  set,  turning  them  the  other  way, 
pulled  the  vessel  backward — one  set  revolving 
in  a  vacuum  and  doing  no  work,  while  the 
other  supplied  the  power. 

The  Parsons  turbine-engines  have  been  used 
to  propel  torpedo-boats,  fast  yachts,  and  vessels 
built  to  carry  passengers  across  the  English 
94 


THE  ENGINES  OF  THE  ARROW 


THE  FASTEST  STEAMBOATS 

Channel,  and  recently  it  has  been  reported  that 
two  new  transatlantic  Cunarders  are  to  be 
equipped  with  them. 

A  few  years  after  the  Pilgrims  sailed  for  the 
land  of  freedom  in  the  tiny  Mayflower  a  man 
named  Branca  built  a  steam-turbine  that  worked 
in  a  crude  way  on  the  same  principle  as  Par- 
sons's  modern  giant.  The  pictures  of  this 
first  steam-turbine  show  the  head  and  shoulders 
of  a  bronze  man  set  over  the  flaming  brands 
of  a  wood  fire;  his  metallic  lungs  are  evidently 
filled  with  water,  for  a  jet  of  steam  spurts  from 
his  mouth  and  blows  against  the  paddles  of  a 
horizontal  turbine  wheel,  which,  revolving, 
sets  in  motion  some  crude  machinery. 

There  is  nothing  picturesque  about  the  steel- 
tube  lungs  of  the  boilers  used  by  Parsons  in 
the  Turbina  and  the  later  boats  built  by  him, 
and  plain  steel  or  copper  pipes  convey  the  steam 
to  the  whirling  blades  of  the  enclosed  turbine 
wheels,  but  enormous  power  has  been  generated 
and  marvellous  speed  gained.  In  the  modern 
turbine  a  glowing  coal  fire,  kept  intensely  hot 
by  an  artificial  draft,  has  taken  the  place  of 
the  blazing  sticks;  the  coils  of  steel  tubes 
carrying  the  boiling  water  surrounded  by 
flame  replace  the  bronze-figure  boiler,  and 
the  whirling,  tightly  jacketed  turbine  wheels, 
95 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

that  use  every  ounce  of  pressure  and  save  all 
the  steam,  to  be  condensed  to  water  and 
used  over  again,  have  grown  out  of  the  crude 
machine  invented  by  Branca. 

As  the  engines  of  the  Arrow  are  but  perfected 
copies  of  the  engine  that  drove  the  Clermont, 
so  the  power  of  the  Turbina  is  derived  from 
steam-motors  that  work  on  the  same  principle 
as  the  engine  built  by  Branca  in  1629,  and  his 
steam-turbine  following  the  same  old,  old,  ages 
old  idea  of  the  moss-covered,  splashing,  tireless 
water-wheel. 


THE  LIFE-SAVERS  AND  THEIR 
APPARATUS 


THE  LIFE-SAVERS  AND  THEIR 
APPARATUS 

FORMING  the  outside  boundary  of  Great 
South  Bay,  Long  Island,  a  long  row  of 
sand-dunes  faces  the  ocean.  In  summer  groups 
of  laughing  bathers  splash  in  the  gentle  surf  at 
the  foot  of  the  low  sand-hills,  while  the  sun 
shines  benignantly  over  all.  The  irregular 
points  of  vessels'  sails  notch  the  horizon  as 
they  are  swept  along  by  the  gentle  summer 
breezes.  Old  Ocean  is  in  a  playful  mood,  and 
even  children  sport  in  his  waters. 

After  the  last  summer  visitor  has  gone,  and 
the  little  craft  that  sail  over  the  shallow  bay 
have  been  hauled  up  high  and  dry,  the  pavilions 
deserted  and  the  bathing-houses  boarded  up, 
the  beaches  take  on  a  new  aspect.  The 
sun  shines  with  a  cold  gleam,  and  the  surf  has 
an  angry  snarl  to  it  as  it  surges  up  the  sandy 
slopes  and  then  recedes,  dragging  the  pebbles 
after  it  with  a  rattling  sound.  The  outer  line 
of  sand-bars,  that  in  summer  breaks  the  blue 
sea  into  sunny  ripples  and  flashing  whitecaps, 
99 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

then  churns  the  water  into  fury  and  grips  with 
a  mighty  hold  the  keel  of  any  vessel  that  is 
unlucky  enough  to  be  driven  on  them.  When 
the  keen  winter  winds  whip  through  the  beach 
grasses  on  the  dunes  and  throw  spiteful  handfuls 
of  cutting  sand  and  spray ;  when  the  great  waves 
pound  the  beach  and  the  crested  tops  are  blown 
off  into  vapour,  then  the  life-saver  patrolling 
the  beach  must  be  most  vigilant. 

All  along  the  coast,  from  Maine  to  Florida, 
along  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  the  Great  Lakes,  and 
the  Pacific,  these  men  patrol  the  beach  as  a 
policeman  walks  his  beat.  When  the  winds 
blow  hardest  and  sleet  adds  cutting  force  to 
the  gale,  then  the  surf  men,  whose  business  it 
is  to  save  life  regardless  of  their  own  comfort  or 
safety,  are  most  alert. 

All  day  the  wind  whistled  through  the  grasses 
and  moaned  round  the  corners  of  the  life-saving 
station;  the  gusts  were  cold,  damp,  and  pene- 
trating. With  the  setting  of  the  sun  there  was 
a  lull,  but  when  the  patrols  started  out  at 
eight  o'clock,  on  their  four-hours'  tour  of  duty, 
the  wind  had  risen  again  and  was  blowing 
with  renewed  force.  Separating  at  the  station, 
one  surf  man  went  east  and  the  other  west, 
following  the  line  of  the  surf -beaten  beach, 
each  carrying  on  his  back  a  recording  clock 
100 


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THE  LIFE-SAVERS  AND  THEIR  APPARATUS 

in  a  leather  case,  and  also  several  candle-like 
Cost  on  lights  and  a  wooden  handle. 

"Wind's  blowing  some,"  said  one  of  the 
men,  raising  his  voice  above  the  howl  of  the 
blast. 

"Hope  nothing  hits  the  bar  to-night,"  the 
other  answered.  Then  both  trudged  off  in 
opposite  directions. 

With  pea-coats  buttoned  tightly  and  sou'- 
westers  tied  down  securely,  the  surfmen  fought 
the  gale  on  their  watch-tour  of  duty.  At  the 
end  of  his  beat  each  man  stopped  to  take  a  key 
attached  to  a  post,  and,  inserting  it  in  the  clock, 
record  the  time  of  his  visit  at  that  spot,  for  by 
this  means  is  an  actual  record  kept  of  the 
movements  of  the  patrol  at  all  times. 

With  head  bent  low  in  deference  to  the  force 
of  the  blast,  and  eyes  narrowed  to  slits,  the 
surfman  searched  the  seething  sea  for  the 
shadowy  outlines  of  a  vessel  in  trouble. 

Perchance  as  he  looked  his  eye  caught  the 
dark  bulk  of  a  ship  in  a  sea  of  foam,  or  the  faint 
lines  of  spars  and  rigging  through  the  spume 
and  frozen  haze — the  unmistakable  signs  of  a 
vessel  in  distress.  An  instant's  concentrated 
gaze  to  make  sure,  then,  taking  a  Coston  signal 
from  his  pocket  and  fitting  it  to  the  handle,  he 
struck  the  end  on  the  sole  of  his  boot.  Like 
101 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

a  parlour  match  it  caught  fire  and  flared  out 
a  brilliant  red  light.  This  served  to  warn  the 
crew  of  the  vessel  of  their  danger,  or  notified 
them  that  their  distress  was  observed  and  that 
help  was  soon  forthcoming;  it  also  served,  if  the 
surf  man  was  near  enough  to  the  station,  to 
notify  the  lookout  there  of  the  ship  in  distress. 
If  the  distance  was  too  great  or  the  weather 
too  thick,  the  patrol  raced  back  with  all  possible 
speed  to  the  station  and  reported  what  he 
had  seen.  The  patrol,  through  his  long  vigils 
under  all  kinds  of  weather  conditions,  learns 
every  foot  of  his  beat  thoroughly,  and  is  able  to 
tell  exactly  how  and  where  a  stranded  vessel 
lies,  and  whether  she  is  likely  to  be  forced  ovei 
on  to  the  beach  or  whether  she  will  stick  on 
the  outer  bar  far  beyond  the  reach  of  a  line 
shot  from  shore. 

In  a  few  words  spoken  quickly  and  exactly 
to  the  point — for  upon  the  accuracy  of  hi? 
report  much  depends — he  tells  the  situation. 
For  different  conditions  different  apparatus  is 
needed.  The  vessel  reported  one  stormy 
winter's  night  struck  on  the  shoal  that  runs 
parallel  to  the  outer  Long  Island  beach,  far 
beyond  the  reach  of  a  line  from  shore.  Deep 
water  lies  on  both  sides  of  the  bar,  and  after 
the  shoal  is  passed  the  broken  water  settles 
102 


THE  LIFE-SAVERS  AND  THEIR  APPARATUS 

down  a  little  and  gathers  speed  for  its  rush  for 
the  beach.  These  conditions  were  favourable 
for  surf -boat  work,  and  as  the  surf  man  told  his 
tale  the  keeper  or  captain  of  the  crew  decided 
what  to  do. 

The  crew  ran  the  ever -ready  surf -boat 
through  the  double  doors  of  its  house  down 
the  inclined  plane  to  the  beach.  Resting 
in  a  carriage  provided  with  a  pair  of  broad- 
tired  wheels,  the  light  craft  was  hauled  by  its 
sturdy  crew  through  the  clinging  sand  and  into 
the  very  teeth  of  the  storm  to  the  point  nearest 
the  wreck. 

The  surf  rolled  in  with  a  roar  that  shook 
the  ground;  fringed  with  foam  that  showed 
even  through  that  dense  midnight  darkness, 
the  waves  were  hungry  for  their  prey.  Each 
breaker  curved  high  above  the  heads  of  the 
men,  and,  receding,  the  undertow  sucked  at 
their  feet  and  tried  to  drag  them  under.  It 
did  not  seem  possible  that  a  boat  could  be 
launched  in  such  a  sea.  With  scarcely  a  word 
of  command,  however,  every  man,  knowing 
from  long  practice  his  position  and  specific 
duties,  took  his  station  on  either  side  of  the 
buoyant  craft  and,  rushing  into  the  surf, 
launched  her;  climbing  aboard,  every  man  took 
his  appointed  place,  while  the  keeper,  a  long 
103 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

steering-oar  in  his  hands,  stood  at  the  stern. 
All  pulled  steadily,  while  the  steersman,  with  a 
sweep  of  his  oar,  kept  her  head  to  the  seas  and 
with  consummate  skill  and  judgment  avoided 
the  most  dangerous  crests,  until  the  first  watery 
rampart  was  passed.  Adapting  their  stroke 
to  the  rough  water,  the  six  sturdy  rowers 
propelled  their  twenty-five-foot  unsinkable  boat 
at  good  speed,  though  it  seemed  infinitely 
slow  when  they  thought  of  the  crew  of  the 
stranded  vessel  off  in  the  darkness,  helpless  and 
hopeless.  Each  man  wore  a  cork  jacket,  but 
in  spite  of  their  encumbrances  they  were  mar- 
vellously active. 

As  is  sometimes  the  case,  before  the  surf -boat 
reached  the  distressed  vessel  she  lurched  over 
the  bar  and  went  driving  for  the  beach. 

The  crew  in  the  boat  could  do  nothing,  and 
the  men  aboard  the  ship  were  helpless.  Climb- 
ing up  into  the  rigging,  the  sailors  waited  for 
the  vessel  to  strike  the  beach,  and  the  life-savers 
put  for  shore  again  to  get  the  apparatus  needed 
for  the  new  situation.  To  load  the  surf -boat 
with  the  wrecked,  half-frozen  crew  of  the 
stranded  vessel,  when  there  was  none  too  much 
room  for  the  oarsmen,  and  then  encounter  the 
fearful  surf,  was  a  method  to  be  pursued  only 
in  case  of  dire  need.  To  reach  the  wreck  from 
104 


THE  LIFE-SAVERS  AND  THEIR  APPARATUS 

shore  was  a  much  safer  and  surer  method  of 
saving  life,  not  only  for  those  on  the  vessel, 
but  also  for  the  surf  men. 

The  beach  apparatus  has  received  the  greatest 
attention  from  inventors,  since  that  part  of  the 
life-savers'  outfit  is  depended  upon  to  rescue 
the  greatest  number. 

With  a  rush  the  surf -boat  rolled  in  on  a  giant 
wave  amid  a  smother  of  foam,  and  no  sooner 
had  her  keel  grated  on  the  sand  than  her  crew 
were  out  knee-deep  in  the  swirling  water  and 
were  dragging  her  up  high  and  dry. 

A  minute  later  the  entire  crew,  some  pulling, 
some  steering,  dragged  out  the  beach  wagon. 
A  light  framework  supported  by  two  broad- 
tired  wheels  carried  all  the  apparatus  for  rescue 
work  from  the  beach.  Each  member  of  the 
crew  had  his  appointed  place  and  definite  duties, 
according  to  printed  instructions  which  each 
had  learned  by  heart,  and  when  the  command 
was  given  every  man  jumped  to  his  place  as  a 
well-trained  man-of-war's-man  takes  his  position 
at  his  gun. 

Over  hummocks  of  sand  and  wreckage, 
across  little  inlets  made  by  the  "waves,  in  the 
face  of  blinding  sleet  and  staggering  wind,  the 
life-savers  dragged  the  beach  wagon  on  the  run. 

Through  the  mist   and   shrouding  white  of 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

the  storm  the  outlines  of  the  stranded  vessel 
could  just  be  distinguished. 

Bringing  the  wagon  to  the  nearest  point, 
the  crew  unloaded  their  appliances. 

Two  men  then  unloaded  a  sand-anchor — an 
immense  cross — and  immediately  set  to  work 
with  shovels  to  dig  a  hole  in  the  sand  and  bury 
it.  While  this  was  being  done  two  others  were 
busy  placing  a  bronze  cannon  (two  and  one- 
half -inch  bore)  in  position;  another  got  out 
boxes  containing  small  rope  wound  criss-cross 
fashion  on  wooden  pins  set  upright  in  the 
bottom.  The  pins  merely  held  the  rope  in 
its  coils  until  ready  for  use,  when  board  and 
pegs  were  removed.  The  free  end  of  the  line 
was  attached  to  a  ring  in  the  end  of  the  long 
projectile  which  the  captain  carried,  together 
with  a  box  of  ammunition  slung  over  his 
shoulders.  The  cylindrical  projectile  was  four- 
teen and  one-half  inches  long  and  weighed 
seventeen  pounds.  All  these  operations  were 
carried  on  at  once  and  with  utmost  speed  in 
spite  of  the  great  difficulties  and  the  darkness. 

While  the  surf  boomed  and  the  wind  roared, 
the  captain  sighted  the  gun — aided  by  Nos.  i 
and  2  of  the  crew — aiming  for  the  outstretched 
arms  of  the  yards  of  the  wrecked  vessel.  With 
the  wind  blowing  at  an  almost  hurricane  rate, 
106 


THE  LIFE-SAVERS  AND  THEIR  APPARATUS 

it  was  a  difficult  shot,  but  long  practice  under 
all  kinds  of  difficulties  had  taught  the  captain 
just  how  to  aim.  As  he  pulled  the  lanyard,  the 
little  bronze  cannon  spit  out  fire  viciously,  and 
the  long  projectile,  to  which  had  been  attached 
the  end  of  the  coiled  line,  sailed  off  on  its  errand 
of  mercy.  With  a  whir  the  line  spun  out  of  the 
box  coil  after  coil,  while  the  crew  peered  out 
over  the  breaking  seas  to  see  if  the  keeper's 
aim  was  true.  At  last  the  line  stopped  uncoil- 
ing and  the  life-savers  knew  that  the  shot 
had  landed  somewhere.  For  a  time  nothing 
happened,  the  slender  rope  reached  out  into 
the  boiling  waves,  but  no  answering  tugs 
conveyed  messages  to  the  waiting  surfmen 
from  the  wrecked  seamen. 

At  length  the  line  began  to  slip  through  the 
fingers  of  the  keeper  who  held  it  and  moved 
seaward,  so  those  on  shore  knew  that  the  rope 
had  been  found  and  its  use  understood.  The 
line  carried  out  by  the  projectile  served  merely 
to  drag  out  a  heavy  rope  on  which  was  run  a 
sort  of  trolley  carrying  a  breeches-buoy  or  sling. 

The  men  on  the  wreck  understood  the  use  of 
the  apparatus,  or  read  the  instructions  printed 
in  several  languages  with  which  the  heavy  rope 
was  tagged.  They  made  the  end  of  the  strong 
line  fast  to  the  mast  well  above  the  reach  of 
107 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

the  hungry  seas,  and  the  surf  men  secured  their 
end  to  the  deeply  buried  sand-anchor,  an  in- 
verted V-shaped  crotch  placed  under  the  rope 
holding  it  above  the  water  on  the  shore  end. 
When  this  had  been  done,  as  much  of  the  slack 
was  taken  up  as  possible,  and  the  wreck  was 
connected  with  the  beach  with  a  kind  of 
suspension  bridge. 

All  this  occupied  much  time,  for  the  hands 
of  the  sailors  were  numb  with  cold,  the  ropes 
stiff  with  ice,  while  the  wild  and  angry  wind 
snatched  at  the  tackle  and  tore  at  the  clinging 
figures. 

In  a  trice  the  willing  arms  on  shore  hauled 
out  the  buoy  by  means  of  an  endless  line 
reaching  out  to  the  wreck  and  back  to  shore. 
Then  with  a  joy  that  comes  only  to  those  who 
are  saving  a  fellow-creature  from  death,  the 
life-savers  saw  a  man  climb  into  the  stout 
canvas  breeches  of  the  hanging  buoy,  and  felt 
the  tug  on  the  whip-line  that  told  them  that 
the  rescue  had  begun.  With  a  will  they  pulled 
on  the  line,  and  the  buoy,  carrying  its  precious 
burden,  rolled  along  the  hawser,  swinging  in  the 
wind,  and  now  and  then  dipping  the  half -frozen 
man  in  the  crests  of  the  waves.  It  seemed  a 
perilous  journey,  but  as  long  as  the  wreck  held 
together  and  the  mast  remained  firmly  upright 
108 


THE  LIFE-SAVERS  AND  THEIR  APPARATUS 

the  passengers  on  this  improvised  aerial  railway 
were  safe. 

One  after  the  other  the  crew  were  taken 
ashore  in  this  way,  the  life-savers  hauling  the 
breeches-buoy  forward  and  back,  working  like 
madmen  to  complete  their  work  before  the 
wreck  should  break  up.  None  too  soon  the 
last  man  was  landed,  for  he  had  hardly  been 
dragged  ashore  when  the  sturdy  mast,  being 
able  to  stand  the  buffeting  of  the  waves  no 
longer,  toppled  over  and  floated  ashore. 

The  life-savers'  work  is  not  over  when  the 
crew  of  a  vessel  is  saved,  for  the  apparatus 
must  be  packed  on  the  beach  wagon  and  returned 
to  the  station,  while  the  shipwrecked  crew 
is  provided  with  dry  clothing,  fed,  and  cared 
for.  The  patrol  continues  on  his  beat  through- 
out the  night  without  regard  to  the  hardships 
that  have  already  been  undergone. 

The  success  of  the  surfmen  in  saving  lives 
depends  not  only  on  their  courage  and  strength, 
supplemented  by  continuous  training  which 
has  been  proved  time  and  again,  but  the 
wonderful  record  of  the  life-saving  service 
is  due  as  well  to  the  efficient  appliances  that 
make  the  work  of  the  men  effective. 

Besides  the  apparatus  already  described,  each 
station  is  provided  with  a  kind  of  boat -car 
109 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

which  has  a  capacity  for  six  or  seven  persons, 
and  is  built  so  that  its  passengers  are  entirely 
enclosed,  the  hatch  by  which  they  enter  being 
clamped  down  from  the  inside.  When  there 
are  a  great  many  people  to  be  saved,  this  car 
is  used  in  place  of  the  breeches-buoy.  It  is  hung 
on  the  hawser  by  rings  at  either  end  and  pulled 
back  and  forth  by  the  whip-line ;  or,  if  the  masts 
of  the  vessel  are  carried  away  and  there  is 
nothing  to  which  the  heavy  rope  can  be  attached 
so  that  it  will  stretch  clear  above  the  wave- 
crests,  in  such  an  emergency  the  life-car  floats 
directly  on  the  water,  and  the  whip-line  is  used 
to  pull  it  to  the  shore  with  wrecked  passengers 
and  back  to  the  wreck  for  more. 

Everything  that  would  help  to  save  life  under 
any  condition  is  provided,  and  a  number  of 
appliances  are  duplicated  in  case  one  or  more 
should  be  lost  or  damaged  at  a  critical  time. 
Signal  flags  are  supplied,  and  the  surf  men  are 
taught  their  use  as  a  means  of  communicating 
with  people  aboard  a  vessel  in  distress.  Tele- 
phones connect  the  stations,  so  that  in  case  of 
any  special  difficulty  two  or  even  three  crews 
may  be  combined.  When  wireless  telegraphy 
comes  into  general  use  aboard  ship  the  stations 
will  doubtless  be  equipped  with  this  apparatus 
also,  so  that  ships  may  be  warned  of  danger, 
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THE  LIFE-SAVERS  AND  THEIR  APPARATUS 

The  10,000  miles  of  the  United  States  ocean, 
gulf,  and  Great  Lakes  coasts,  exclusive  of  Alaska 
and  the  island  possessions,  are  guarded  by 
265  stations  and  houses  of  refuge  at  this 
writing,  and  new  ones  are  added  every  year. 
Practically  all  of  this  immense  coast -line  is 
patrolled  or  watched  over  during  eight  or  nine 
stormy  months,  and  those  that  "go  down  to 
the  sea  in  ships"  may  be  sure  of  a  helping 
hand  in  time  of  trouble. 

The  dangerous  coasts  are  more  thickly  studded 
with  stations,  and  the  sections  that  are  com- 
paratively free  from  life-endangering  reefs  are 
provided  with  refuge  houses  where  supplies  are 
stored  and  where  wrecked  survivors  may  find 
shelter. 

The  Atlantic  coast,  being  the  most  dangerous 
to  shipping,  is  guarded  by  more  than  175 
stations;  the  Great  Lakes  require  fifty  or  more 
to  care  for  the  survivors  of  the  vessels  that 
are  yearly  wrecked  on  their  harbourless  shores. 
For  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  eight  are  considered 
sufficient,  and  the  long  Pacific  coast  also  re- 
quires but  eight. 

The  Life-Saving  Service,  formerly  under  the 

Treasury  Department,  now  an  important  part 

of  the  Department  of  Commerce  and  Labour, 

was  organised  by  Sumner  I.  Kimball,  who  was 

in 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

put  at  its  head  in  1871,  and  the  great  success 
and  glory  it  has  won  is  largely  due  to  his  energy 
and  efficient  enthusiasm. 

The  Life-Saving  Service  publishes  a  report 
of  work  accomplished  through  the  year.  It  is 
a  dry  recital  of  facts  and  figures,  but  if  the 
reader  has  a  little  imagination  he  can  see  the 
record  of  great  deeds  of  heroism  and  self-sacrifice 
written  between  the  lines. 

As  vessels  labour  through  the  wintry  seas 
along  our  coasts,  and  the  on-shore  winds  roar 
through  the  rigging,  while  the  fog,  mist  or 
snow  hangs  like  a  curtain  all  around,  it  is 
surely  a  comfort  to  those  at  sea  to  know  that 
all  along  the  dangerous  coast  men  specially 
trained,  and  equipped  with  the  most  efficient 
apparatus  known,  are  always  ready  to  stretch 
out  a  helping  hand. 


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MOVING    PICTURES 

SOME    STRANGE    SUBJECTS    AND    How    THEY 
WERE    TAKEN 

THE  grandstand  of  the  Sheepshead  Bay 
race-track,  one  spring  afternoon,  was 
packed  solidly  with  people,  and  the  broad, 
terra-cotta-coloured  track  was  fenced  in  with  a 
human  wall  near  the  judges'  stand.  The  famous 
Suburban  was  to  be  run,  and  people  flocked 
from  every  direction  to  see  one  of  the  greatest 
horse-races  of  the  year.  While  the  band  played 
gaily,  and  the  shrill  cries  of  programme 
venders  punctuated  the  hum  of  the  voices  of 
the  multitude,  and  while  the  stable  boys  walked 
their  aristocratic  charges,  shrouded  in  blankets, 
exercising  them  sedately — in  the  midst  of  all 
this  movement,  hubbub,  and  excitement  a  man 
a  little  to  one  side,  apparently  unconscious  of 
all  the  uproar,  was  busy  with  a  big  box  set  up 
on  a  portable  framework  six  or  seven  feet  above 
the  ground.  The  man  was  a  new  kind  of 
photographer,  and  his  big  box  was  a  camera 
"5 


•TTi  R  A  *  F 

U  OF  THE 

|   UNIVERSITY  ) 

OF 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

with  which  he  purposed  to  take  a  series  of 
pictures  of  the  race.  Above  the  box,  which 
was  about  two  and  a  half  feet  square,  was  an 
electric  motor  from  which  ran  a  belt  connecting 
with  the  inner  mechanism;  from  the  front  of 
the  box  protruded  the  lens,  its  glassy  eye  so 
turned  as  to  get  a  full  sweep  of  the  track; 
nearby  on  the  ground  were  piled  the  storage 
batteries  which  were  used  to  supply  the  current 
for  the  motor. 

As  the  time  for  the  race  drew  near  the 
excitement  increased,  figures  darted  here,  there 
and  everywhere,  the  bobbing,  brightly  coloured 
hats  of  the  women  in  the  great  slanting  field  of 
the  grandstand  suggesting  bunches  of  flowers 
agitated  by  the  breeze.  Then  the  horses 
paraded  in  a  thoroughbred  fashion,  as  if  they 
appreciated  their  lengthy  pedigrees  and  under- 
stood their  importance. 

At  last  the  splendid  animals  were  lined  up 
across  the  track,  their  small  jockeys  in  their 
brilliantly  coloured  jackets  hunched  up  like 
monkeys  on  their  backs.  Then  the  enormous 
crowd  was  quiet,  the  band  was  still,  even  the 
noisy  programme  venders  ceased  calling  their 
wares,  and  the  photographer  stood  quietly  beside 
his  camera,  the  motor  humming,  his  hand  on 
the  switch  that  starts  the  internal  machinery. 
116 


MOVING  PICTURES 

Suddenly  the  starter  dropped  his  arm,  the 
barring  gate  flew  up,  and  the  horses  sprang 
forward.  "  They're  off ! "  came  from  a  thousand 
throats  in  unison.  The  band  struck  up  a  lively 
air,  and  the  vast  assemblage  watched  with 
excited  eyes  the  flying  horses.  As  the  horses 
swept  on  round  the  turn  and  down  the  back 
stretch  the  people  seemed  to  be  drawn  from 
their  seats,  and  by  the  time  the  racers 
made  the  turn  leading  into  the  home-stretch 
almost  every  one  was  standing  and  the  roar 
of  yelling  voices  was  deafening. 

All  this  time  the  photographer  kept  his  eyes 
on  his  machine,  which  was  rattling  like  a 
rapidly  beaten  drum,  the  cyclopean  eye  of  the 
camera  making  impressions  on  a  sensitised 
film-ribbon  at  the  rate  of  forty  a  second,  and 
every  movement  of  the  flying  legs,  of  the  urging 
jockeys,  even  the  puffs  of  dust  that  rose  at  the 
falling  of  each  iron-shod  hoof,  was  recorded 
for  all  time  by  the  eye  of  the  camera. 

The  horses  entered  the  home-stretch  and  in 
a  terrific  burst  of  speed  flashed  by  the  throngs 
of  yelling  people  and  under  the  wire,  a  mere  blur 
of  shining  bodies,  brilliant  colours  of  the  jockeys' 
blouses,  and  yellow  dust.  The  Suburban  was 
over,  and  the  great  crowd  that  had  come  miles 
to  see  a  race  that  lasted  but  a  little  more  than 
117 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

two  minutes  (a  grand  struggle  of  giants,  how- 
ever), sank  back  into  their  seats  or  relaxed 
their  straining  gaze  in  a  way  that  said  plainer 
than  words  could  say  it,  "It  is  over." 

It  was  4 145  in  the  afternoon.  The  photo- 
grapher was  all  activity.  The  minute  the  race 
was  over  the  motor  above  the  great  camera 
was  stopped  and  the  box  was  opened.  From  its 
dark  interior  another  box  about  six  inches 
square  and  two  inches  deep  was  taken :  this  box 
contained  the  record  of  the  race,  on  a  narrow 
strip  of  film  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  long, 
the  latent  image  of  thousands  of  separate 
pictures. 

Then  began  another  race  against  time,  for 
it  was  necessary  to  take  that  long  ribbon  across 
the  city  of  Brooklyn,  over  the  Bridge,  across 
New  York,  over  the  North  River  by  ferry  to 
Hoboken  on  the  Jersey  side,  develop,  fix,  and 
dry  the  two-hundred-and-fifty-foot-long  film- 
negative,  make  a  positive  or  reversed  print  on 
another  two-hundred-and-fifty-foot  film,  carry 
it  through  the  same  photographic  process,  and 
show  the  spirited  scene  on  the  stereopticon 
screen  of  a  metropolitan  theatre  the  same 
evening. 

That  evening  a  great  audience  in  the 
dark  interior  of  a  New  York  theatre  sat 
118 


MOVING  PICTURES 

watching  a  white  sheet  stretched  across  the 
stage;  suddenly  its  white  expanse  grew  dark, 
and  against  the  background  appeared  "The 
Suburban,  run  this  afternoon  at  4:45  at 
Sheepshead  Bay  track;  won  by  Alcedo,  in 
2  minutes  53-5  seconds. " 

Then  appeared  on  the  screen  the  picture  of 
the  scene  that  the  thousands  had  travelled  far 
to  see  that  same  afternoon.  There  were  the 
wide,  smooth  track,  the  tower-like  judges'  stand, 
the  oval  turf  of  the  inner  field,  and  as  the 
audience  looked  the  starter  moved  his  arm,  and 
the  rank  of  horses,  life-size  and  quivering  with 
excitement,  shot  forth.  From  beginning  to  end 
the  great  struggle  was  shown  to  the  people 
seated  comfortably  in  the  city  playhouse, 
several  miles  from  the  track  where  the  race 
was  run,  just  two  hours  and  fifteen  minutes  after 
the  winning  horse  dashed  past  the  judges' 
stand.  Every  detail  was  reproduced;  every 
movement  of  horses  and  jockeys,  even  the 
clouds  of  dust  that  rose  from  the  hoof -beats, 
appeared  clearly  on  the  screen.  And  the 
audience  rose  gradually  to  their  feet,  straining 
forward  to  catch  every  movement,  thrilled  with 
excitement  as  were  the  mighty  crowds  at  the 
actual  race. 

To  produce  the  effect  that  made  the  people 
119 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

in  the  theatre  forget  their  surroundings  and 
feel  as  if  they  were  actually  overlooking  the 
race-track  itself,  about  five  thousand  separate 
photographs  were  shown. 

It  was  discovered  long  ago  that  if  a  series  of 
pictures,  each  of  which  showed  a  difference  in 
the  position  of  the  legs  of  a  man  running,  for 
instance,  was  passed  quickly  before  the  eye 
so  that  the  space  between  the  pictures  would 
be  screened,  the  figure  would  apparently  move. 
The  eyes  retain  the  image  they  see  for  a  fraction 
of  a  second,  and  if  a  new  image  carrying  the 
movement  a  little  farther  along  is  presented 
in  the  same  place,  the  eyes  are  deceived  so  that 
the  object  apparently  actually  moves.  An 
ingenious  toy  called  the  zoltrope,  which  was 
based  on  this  optical  illusion,  was  made  long 
before  Edison  invented  the  vitascope,  Herman 
Caster  the  biograph  and  mutoscope,  or  the 
Lumiere  brothers  in  France  devised  the  cine- 
matograph. All  these  different  moving-picture 
machines  work  on  the  same  principle,  differing 
only  in  their  mechanism. 

A  moving-picture  machine  is  really  a  rapid- 
fire  repeating  camera  provided  with  a  lens 
allowing  of  a  very  quick  exposure.  Internal 
mechanism,  operated  by  a  hand-crank  or  electric 
motor,  moves  the  unexposed  film  into  position 
1 20 


MOVING  PICTURES 

behind  the  lens  and  also  opens  and  closes  the 
shutter  at  just  the  proper  moment.  The  same 
machinery  feeds  down  a  fresh  section  of  the 
ribbon-like  film  into  position  and  coils  the 
exposed  portion  in  a  dark  box,  just  as  the  film 
of  a  kodak  is  rolled  off  one  spool  and,  after 
exposure,  is  wound  up  on  another.  The  film 
used  in  the  biograph  when  taking  the  Suburban 
was  two  and  three-fourth  inches  wide  and 
several  hundred  feet  long ;  about  forty  exposures 
were  made  per  second,  and  for  each  exposure 
the  film  had  to  come  to  a  dead  stop  before  the 
lens  and  then  the  shutter  was  opened,  the  light 
admitted  for  about  one  three-hundredth  of 
a  second,  the  shutter  closed,  and  a  new 
section  of  film  moved  into  place,  while  the 
exposed  portion  was  wound  upon  a  spool  in 
a  light-tight  box.  The  long,  flexible  film  is 
perforated  along  both  edges,  and  these  per- 
forations fit  over  toothed  wheels  which  guide 
it  down  to  the  lens;  the  holes  in  the  celluloid 
strip  are  also  used  by  the  feeding  mechanism. 
In  order  that  the  interval  between  the  pictures 
shall  always  be  the  same,  the  film  must  be 
held  firmly  in  each  position  in  turn;  the  perfo- 
rations and  toothed  mechanism  accomplish 
this  perfectly. 

In  taking  the  picture  of  the  Suburban  race 

121 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

almost  five  thousand  separate  negatives  (all  on 
one  strip  of  film,  however)  were  made  during 
the  two  minutes  five  and  three-fifths  seconds 
the  race  was  being  run.  Each  negative  was 
perfectly  clear,  and  each  was  different,  though 
if  one  negative  was  compared  to  its  neighbour 
scarcely  any  variance  would  be  noted. 

After  the  film  has  been  exposed,  the  light- 
tight  box  containing  it  is  taken  out  of  the 
camera  and  taken  to  a  gigantic  dark-room, 
where  it  is  wound  on  a  great  reel  and  developed, 
just  as  the  image  on  a  kodak  film  is  brought 
out.  The  reel  is  hung  by  its  axle  over  a  great 
trough  containing  gallons  of  developer,  so  that 
the  film  wound  upon  it  is  submerged ;  and  as  the 
reel  is  revolved  all  of  the  sensitised  surface  is 
exposed  to  the  action  of  the  chemicals  and 
gradually  the  latent  pictures  are  developed. 
After  the  development  has  gone  far  enough, 
the  reel,  still  carrying  the  film,  is  dipped  in  clean 
water  and  washed,  and  then  a  dip  in  a  similar 
bath  of  clearing-and-fixing  solution  makes 
the  negatives  permanent — followed  by  a  final 
washing  in  clean  water.  It  is  simply  develop- 
ing on  a  grand  scale,  thousands  of  separate 
pictures  on  hundreds  of  feet  of  film  being 
developed  at  once. 

A  negative,  however,  is  of  no  use  unless  a 

122 


MOVING  PICTURES 

positive  or  print  of  some  kind  is  made  from  it. 
If  shown  through  a  stereopticon,  for  instance, 
a  negative  would  make  all  the  shadows  on  the 
screen  appear  lights,  and  vice  versa.  A  positive, 
therefore,  is  made  by  running  a  fresh  film,  with 
the  negative,  through  a  machine  very  much 
like  the  moving-picture  camera.  The  unexposed 
surface  is  behind  that  of  the  negative,  and  at 
the  proper  intervals  the  shutter  is  opened  and 
the  admitted  light  prints  the  image  of  the 
negative  on  the  unexposed  film,  just  as  a  lantern 
slide  is  made,  in  fact,  or  a  print  on  sensitised 
paper.  The  positives  are  made  by  this  machine 
at  the  rate  of  a  score  or  so  in  a  second.  Of 
course,  the  positive  is  developed  in  the  same 
manner  as  the  negative. 

Therefore,  in  order  to  show  the  people 
in  the  theatre  the  Suburban,  five  hundred  feet 
of  film  was  exposed,  developed,  fixed,  and 
dried,  and  nearly  ten  thousand  separate  and 
complete  pictures  were  produced,  in  the  space 
of  two  hours  and  fifteen  minutes,  including  the 
time  occupied  in  taking  the  films  to  and  from 
the  track,  factory,  and  theatre. 

Originally,  successive  pictures  of  moving 
objects  were  taken  for  scientific  purposes.  A 
French  scientist  who  was  studying  aerial  navi- 
gation set  up  a  number  of  cameras  and  took 
123 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

successive  pictures  of  a  bird's  flight.  Doctor 
Muybridge,  of  Philadelphia,  photographed 
trotting  horses  with  a  camera  of  his  own 
invention  that  made  exposures  in  rapid  suc- 
cession, in  order  to  learn  the  different  positions 
of  the  legs  of  animals  while  in  rapid  motion. 

A  Frenchman  also — M.  Mach — photographed 
a  plant  of  rapid  growth  twice  a  day  from  exactly 
the  same  position  for  fifty  consecutive  days. 
When  the  pictures  were  thrown  on  the  screen 
in  rapid  order  the  plant  seemed  to  grow  visibly. 

The  moving  pictures  provide  a  most  attrac- 
tive entertainment,  and  it  was  this  feature  of 
the  idea,  undoubtedly,  that  furnished  the 
incentive  to  inventors.  The  public  is  always 
willing  to  pay  well  for  a  good  amusement. 

The  makers  of  the  moving-picture  films  have 
photographic  studios  suitably  lighted  and  fitted 
with  all  the  necessary  stage  accessories  (scenery, 
properties,  etc.)  where  the  little  comedies  shown 
on  the  screens  of  the  theatres  are  acted  for  the 
benefit  of  the  rapid-fire  camera  and  its  operators, 
who  are  often  the  only  spectators.  One  of 
these  studios  in  the  heart  of  the  city  of  New 
York  is  so  brilliantly  lighted  by  electricity 
that  pictures  may  be  taken  at  full  speed,  thirty 
to  forty-five  per  second,  at  any  time  of  day 
or  night.  Another  company  has  an  open-air 
124 


MOVING  PICTURES 

gallery  large  enough  for  whole  troops  of  cavalry 
to  maneuver  before  the  camera,  or  where  the 
various  evolutions  of  a  working  fire  department 
may  be  photographed. 

Of  course,  when  the  pictures  are  taken  in  a 
studio  or  place  prepared  for  the  work  the 
photographic  part  is  easy — the  camera  man 
sets  up  his  machine  and  turns  the  crank  while 
the  performers  do  the  rest.  But  some  extra- 
ordinary pictures  have  been  taken  when  the 
photographer  had  to  seek  his  scene  and  work 
his  machine  under  trying  and  even  dangerous 
circumstances. 

During  the  Boer  War  in  South  Africa  two 
operators  for  the  Biograph  Company  took  their 
bulky  machine  (it  weighed  about  eighteen 
hundred  pounds)  to  the  very  firing-line  and 
took  pictures  of  battles  between  the  British 
and  the  Burghers  when  they  were  exposed  to 
the  fire  of  both  armies.  On  one  occasion,  in 
fact,  the  operator  who  was  turning  the 
mechanism — he  sat  on  a  bicycle  frame,  the 
sprocket  of  which  was  connected  by  a  chain 
with  the  interior  machinery — during  a  battle, 
was  knocked  from  his  place  by  the  concussion 
of  a  shell  that  exploded  nearby;  nevertheless, 
the  film  was  saved,  and  the  same  man  rode 
on  horseback  nearly  seventy-five  miles  across 
"5 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

country  to  the  nearest  railroad  point  so  that  the 
precious  photographic  record  might  be  sent  to 
London  and  shown  to  waiting  audiences  there. 

Pictures  were  taken  by  the  kinetoscope  show- 
ing an  ascent  of  Mount  Blanc,  the  operator 
of  the  camera  necessarily  making  the  perilous 
journey  also;  different  stages  of  the  ascent 
were  taken,  some  of  them  far  above  the  clouds. 
For  this  series  of  pictures  a  film  eight  hundred 
feet  long  was  required,  and  12,800  odd  exposures 
or  negatives  were  made. 

Successive  pictures  have  been  taken  at 
intervals  during  an  ocean  voyage  to  show  the 
life  aboard  ship,  the  swing  of  the  great  seas, 
and  the  rolling  and  pitching  of  the  steamer. 
The  heave  and  swing  of  the  steamer  and  the 
mountainous  waves  have  been  so  realistically 
shown  on  the  screen  in  the  theatre  that  some 
squeamish  spectators  have  been  made  almost 
seasick.  It  might  be  comforting  to  those  who 
were  made  unhappy  by  the  sight  of  the  heaving 
seas  to  know  that  the  operator  who  took  one 
series  of  sea  pictures,  when  lashed  with  his 
machine  in  the  lookout  place  on  the  foremast 
of  the  steamer,  suffered  terribly  from  seasick- 
ness, and  would  have  been  glad  enough  to  set 
his  foot  on  solid  ground;  nevertheless,  he  stuck 
to  his  post  and  completed  the  series. 
126 


MOVING  PICTURES 

It  was  a  biograph  operator  that  was  engaged 
in  taking  pictures  of  a  fire  department  rushing 
to  a  fire.  Several  pieces  of  apparatus  had 
passed — an  engine,  hook-and-ladder  company, 
and  the  chief;  the  operator,  with  his  (then) 
bulky  apparatus,  large  camera,  storage  batteries, 
etc.,  stood  right  in  the  centre  of  the  street, 
facing  the  stream  of  engines,  hose-wagons,  and 
fire-patrol  men.  In  order  to  show  the  contrast, 
an  old-time  hand-pump  engine,  dragged  by  a 
dozen  men  and  boys,  came  along  at  full  speed 
down  the  street,  and  behind  and  to  one  side 
of  them  followed  a  two-horse  hose-wagon, 
going  like  mad.  -The  men  running  with  the 
old-time  engine,  not  realising  how  narrow  the 
space  was  and  unaware  of  the  plunging  horses 
behind,  passed  the  biograph  man  on  one  side 
on  the  dead  run.  The  driver  of  the  rapidly 
approaching  team  saw  that  there  was  no  room 
for  him  to  pass  on  the  other  side  of  the  camera 
man,  and  his  horses  were  going  too  fast  to  stop 
in  the  space  that  remained.  He  had  but  an 
instant  to  decide  between  the  dozen  men  and 
their  antiquated  machine  and  the  moving- 
picture  outfit.  He  chose  the  latter,  and,  with  a 
warning  shout  to  the  photographer,  bore  straight 
down  on  the  camera,  which  continued  to  do 
its  work  faithfully,  taking  dozens  of  pictures  a 
127 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

second,  recording  even  the  strained,  anxious 
expression  on  the  face  of  the  driver.  The 
pole  of  the  hose-wagon  struck  the  camera-box 
squarely  and  knocked  it  into  fragments,  and  the 
wheels  passed  quickly  over  the  pieces,  the 
photographer  meanwhile  escaping  somehow. 
By  some  lucky  chance  the  box  holding  the  coiled 
exposed  film  came  through  the  wreck  unscathed. 
When  that  series  was  shown  on  the  screen  in 
a  theatre  the  audience  saw  the  engine  and  hook- 
and-ladder  in  turn  come  nearer  and  nearer  and 
then  rush  by,  then  the  line  of  running  men  with 
the  old  engine,  and  then — and  their  flesh  crept 
when  they  saw  it — a  team  of  plunging  horses 
coming  straight  toward  them  at  frightful 
speed.  The  driver's  face  could  be  seen  between 
the  horses'  heads,  distorted  with  effort  and  fear. 
Straight  on  the  horses  came,  their  nostrils 
distended,  their  great  muscles  straining,  their 
fore  hoofs  striking  out  almost,  it  seemed,  in 
the  faces  of  the  people  in  the  front  row  of  seats. 
People  shrank  back,  some  women  shrieked, 
and  when  the  plunging  horses  seemed  almost 
on  them,  at  the  very  climax  of  excitement, 
the  screen  was  darkened  and  the  picture 
blotted  out.  The  camera  taking  the  pictures 
had  continued  to  work  to  the  very  instant  it 
was  struck  and  hurled  to  destruction. 
128 


MOVING  PICTURES 

In  addition  to  the  stereopticon  and  its 
attendant  mechanism,  which  is  only  suitable 
when  the  pictures  are  to  be  shown  to  an  audience, 
a  machine  has  been  invented  for  the  use  of 
an  individual  or  a  small  group  of  people.  In 
the  mutoscope  the  positives  or  prints  are  made 
on  long  strips  of  heavy  bromide  paper,  instead 
of  films,  and  are  generally  enlarged;  the  strip 
is  cut  up  after  development  and  mounted 
on  a  cylinder,  so  they  radiate  like  the  spokes  of  a 
wheel,  and  are  set  in  the  same  consecutive  order 
in  which  they  were  taken.  The  thousands  of 
cards  bearing  the  pictures  at  the  outer  ends  are 
placed  in  a  box,  so  that  when  the  wheel  of 
pictures  is  turned,  by  means  of  a  crank  attached 
to  the  axle,  a  projection  holds  each  card  in  turn 
before  the  lens  through  which  the  observer 
looks.  The  projection  in  the  top  of  the  box 
acts  like  the  thumb  turning  the  pages  of  a 
book.  Each  of  the  pictures  is  presented  in 
such  rapid  succession  that  the  object  appears 
to  move,  just  as  the  scenes  thrown  on  the  screen 
by  a  lantern  show  action. 

The  mutoscope  widens  the  use  of  motion- 
photography  infinitely.  The  United  States 
Government  will  use  it  to  illustrate  the  workings 
of  many  of  its  departments  at  the  World's  Fair 
at  St.  Louis:  the  life  aboard  war-ships,  the 
129 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

handling  of  big  guns,  army  maneuvers,  the  life- 
saving  service,  post-office  workings,  and,  in  fact, 
many  branches  of  the  government  service  will 
be  explained  pictorially  by  this  means. 

Agents  for  manufacturers  of  large  machinery 
will  be  able  to  show  to  prospective  purchasers 
pictures  of  their  machines  in  actual  operation. 
Living,  moving  portraits  have  been  taken,  and 
by  means  of  a  hand  machine  can  be  as  easily 
examined  as  pictures  through  a  stereoscope. 
It  is  quite  within  the  bounds  of  possibility 
that  circulating  libraries  of  moving  pictures 
will  be  established,  and  that  every  public 
school  will  have  a  projecting  apparatus  for  the 
use  of  films,  and  a  stereopticon  or  a  mutoscope. 
In  fact,  a  sort  of  circulating  library  already 
exists,  films  or  mutoscope  pictures  being 
rented  for  a  reasonable  sum;  and  thus  many  of 
the  most  important  of  the  world's  happenings 
may  be  seen  as  they  actually  occurred. 

Future  generations  will  have  histories 
illustrated  with  vivid  motion  pictures,  as  all 
the  great  events  of  the  day,  processions,  cele- 
brations, battles,  great  contests  on  sea  and  land 
are  now  recorded  by  the  all-seeing  eye  of  the 
motion-photographer's  camera. 


130 


BRIDGE  BUILDERS  AND  SOME  OF 
THEIR  ACHIEVEMENTS 


BRIDGE  BUILDERS  AND  SOME 
OF  THEIR  ACHIEVEMENTS 

TN  the  old  days  when  Rome  was  supreme 
•*•  a  Caesar  decreed  that  a  bridge  should  be 
built  to  carry  a  military  road  across  a  valley, 
or  ordered  that  great  stone  arches  should  be 
raised  to  conduct  a  stream  of  water  to  a  city; 
and  after  great  toil,  and  at  the  cost  of  the  lives 
of  unnumbered  labourers,  the  work  was  done — 
so  well  done,  in  fact,  that  much  of  it  is  still 
standing,  and  some  is  still  doing  service. 

In  much  the  same  regal  way  the  managers  of 
a  railroad  order  a  steel  bridge  flung  across  a 
chasm  in  the  midst  of  a  wilderness  far  from 
civilisation,  or  command  that  a  new  structure 
shall  be  substituted  for  an  old  one  without 
disturbing  traffic;  and,  lo  and  behold,  it  is  done 
in  a  surprisingly  short  time.  But  the  new 
bridges,  in  contrast  to  the  old  ones,  are  as  spider 
webs  compared  to  the  overarching  branches  of 
a  great  tree.  The  old  type,  built  of  solid 
masonry,  is  massive,  ponderous,  while  the  new, 
slender,  graceful,  is  built  of  steel. 
133 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

One  day  a  bridge-building  company  in 
Pennsylvania  received  the  specifications  giving 
the  dimensions  and  particulars  of  a  bridge  that 
an  English  railway  company  wished  to  build 
in  far-off  Burma,  above  a  great  gorge  more  than 
eight  hundred  feet  deep  and  about  a  half-mile 
wide.  From  the  meagre  description  of  the 
conditions  and  requirements,  and  from  the 
measurements  furnished  by  the  railroad,  the 
engineers  of  the  American  bridge  company 
created  a  viaduct.  Just  as  an  author  creates 
a  story  or  a  painter  a  picture,  so  these  engineers 
built  a  bridge  on  paper,  except  that  the  work 
of  the  engineers'  imagination  had  to  be  figured 
out  mathematically,  proved,  and  reproved. 
Not  only  was  the  soaring  structure  created  out 
of  bare  facts  and  dry  statistics,  but  the  thickness 
of  every  bolt  and  the  strain  to  be  borne  by 
every  rod  were  predetermined  accurately. 

And  when  the  plans  of  the  great  viaduct  were 
completed  the  engineers  knew  the  cost  of  every 
part,  and  felt  so  sure  that  the  actual  bridge  in 
far-off  Burma  could  be  built  for  the  estimated 
amount,  that  they  put  in  a  bid  for  the  work 
that  proved  to  be  far  below  the  price  asked  by 
English  builders. 

And  so  this  company  whose  works  are  in 
Pennsylvania  was  awarded  the  contract  for  the 
134 


BRIDGE-BUILDING  ACHIEVEMENTS 

Gokteik  viaduct  in  Burma,  half-way  round  the 
world  from  the  factory. 

In  the  midst  of  a  wilderness,  among 
an  ancient  people  whose  language  and  habits 
were  utterly  strange  to  most  Americans,  in 
a  tropical  country  where  modern  machinery 
and  appliances  were  practically  unknown,  a 
small  band  of  men  from  the  young  republic 
contracted  to  build  the  greatest  viaduct  the 
world  had  ever  seen.  All  the  material,  all  the 
tools  and  machinery,  were  to  be  carried  to  the 
opposite  side  of  the  earth  and  dumped  on  the 
edge  of  the  chasm.  From  the  heaps  of  metal 
the  small  band  of  American  workmen  and 
engineers,  aided  by  the  native  labourers,  were  to 
build  the  actual  structure,  strong  and  enduring, 
that  was  conceived  by  the  engineers  and  reduced 
to  working-plans  in  far-off  Pennsylvania 

From  ore  dug  out  of  the  Pennsylvania 
mountains  the  steel  was  made  and,  piece  by 
piece,  the  parts  were  rolled,  riveted,  or  welded 
together  so  that  every  section  was  exactly 
according  to  the  measurements  laid  out  on  the 
plan.  As  each  part  was  finished  it  was  marked 
to  correspond  with  the  plan  and  also  to  show 
its  relation  to  its  neighbour.  It  was  like  a 
gigantic  puzzle.  The  parts  were  made  to  fit 
each  other  accurately,  so  that  when  the  work- 
135 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

men  in  Burma  came  to  put  them  together  the 
tangle  of  beams  and  rods,  of  trusses  and  braces 
should  be  assembled  into  a  perfect,  orderly 
structure — each  part  in  its  place  and  each 
doing  its  share  of  the  work. 

With  men  trained  to  work  with  ropes  and 
tackle  collected  from  an  Indian  seaport,  and 
native  riveters  gathered  from  another  place, 
Mr.  J.  C.  Turk,  the  engineer  in  charge,  set  to 
work  with  the  American  bridgemen  and  the 
constructing  engineer  to  build  a  bridge  out  of 
the  pieces  of  steel  that  lay  in  heaps  along  the 
brink  of  the  gorge.  First,  the  traveller,  or 
derrick,  shipped  from  America  in  sections,  was 
put  together,  and  its  long  arm  extended  from 
the  end  of  the  tracks  on  which  it  ran  over 
the  abyss. 

From  above  the  great  steel  beams  were 
lowered  to  the  masonry  foundations  of  the  first 
tower  and  securely  bolted  to  them,  and  so, 
piece  by  piece,  the  steel  girders  were  suspended 
in  space  and  swung  this  way  and  that  until  each 
was  exactly  in  its  proper  position  and  then 
riveted  permanently.  The  great  valley  re- 
sounded with  the  blows  of  hammers  on  red- 
hot  metal,  and  the  clangour  of  steel  on  steel 
broke  the  silence  of  the  tropic  wilderness.  The 
towers  rose  up  higher  and  higher,  until  the  tops 

136 


BRIDGE-BUILDING  ACHIEVEMENTS 

were  level  with  the  rim  of  the  valley,  and  as 
they  were  completed  the  horizontal  girders  were 
built  on  them,  the  rails  laid,  and  the  traveller 
pushed  forward  until  its  arm  swung  over  the 
foundation  of  the  next  tower. 

And  so  over  the  deep  valley  the  slender 
structure  gradually  won  its  way,  supporting 
itself  on  its  own  web  as  it  crawled  along  like 
a  spider.  Indeed,  so  tall  were  its  towers  and 
so  slender  its  steel  cords  and  beams  that  from 
below  it  appeared  as  fragile  as  a  spider's  web,  and 
the  men,  poised  on  the  end  of  swinging  beams 
or  standing  on  narrow  platforms  hundreds  of 
feet  in  air,  looked  not  unlike  the  flies  caught  in 
the  web. 

The  towers,  however,  were  designed  to  sustain 
a  heavy  train  and  locomotive  and  to  withstand 
the  terrific  wind  of  the  monsoon.  The  pressure  of 
such  a  wind  on  a  320-foot  tower  is  tremendous. 
The  bridge  was  completed  within  the  specified  time 
and  bore  without  flinching  all  the  severe  tests  to 
which  it  was  put.  Heavy  trains — much  heavier 
than  would  ordinarily  be  run  over  the  viaduct 
— steamed  slowly  across  the  great  steel  trestle 
while  the  railroad  engineers  examined  with 
utmost  care  every  section  that  would  be  likely 
to  show  weakness.  But  the  designers  had 
planned  well,  the  steel-workers  had  done  their 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

full  duty,  and  the  American  bridgemen  had 
seen  to  it  that  every  rivet  was  properly  headed 
and  every  bolt  screwed  tight — and  no  fault 
could  be  found. 

The  bridge  engineer's  work  is  very  diversified, 
since  no  two  bridges  are  alike.  At  one  time  he 
might  be  ordered  to  span  a  stream  in  the  midst 
of  a  populous  country  where  every  aid  is  at 
hand,  and  his  next  commission  might  be  the 
building  of  a  difficult  bridge  in  a  foreign  wilder- 
ness far  beyond  the  edge  of  civilisation. 

Bridge-building  is  really  divided  into  four 
parts,  and  each  part  requires  a  different  kind 
of  knowledge  and  experience. 

First,  the  designer  has  to  have  the  imagina- 
tion to  see  the  bridge  as  if  will  be  when  it  is  com- 
pleted, and  then  he  must  be  able  to  lay  it  out  on 
paper  section  by  section,  estimating  the  size  of 
the  parts  necessary  for  the  stress  they  will  have 
to  bear,  the  weight  of  the  load  they  will  have 
to  carry,  the  effect  of  the  wind,  the  contraction 
and  expansion  of  cold  and  heat,  and  vibration; 
all  these  things  must  be  thought  of  and  con- 
sidered in  planning  every  part  and  determining 
the  size  of  each.  Also  he  must  know  what 
kind  of  material  to  use  that  is  best  fitted  to 
stand  each  strain,  whether  to  use  steel  that  is 
rigid  or  that  which  is  so  flexible  that  it  can  be 

138  • 


BRIDGE-BUILDING  ACHIEVEMENTS 

tied  in  a  knot.  On  the  designer  depends  the 
price  asked  for  the  work,  and  so  it  is  his  business 
to  invent,  for  each  bridge  is  a  separate  problem 
in  invention,  a  bridge  that  will  carry  the 
required  weight  with  the  least  expenditure  of 
material  and  labour  and  at  the  same  time  be 
strong  enough  to  carry  very  much  greater 
loads  than  it  is  ever  likely  to  be  called  upon 
to  sustain.  The  designer  is  often  the  constructor 
as  well,  and  he  is  always  a  man  of  great  practical 
experience.  He  has  in  his  time  stepped  out 
on  a  foot- wide  girder  over  a  rushing  stream, 
directing  his  men,  and  he  has  floundered  in  the 
mud  of  a  river  bottom  in  a  caisson  far  below 
the  surface  of  the  stream,  while  the  compressed 
air  kept  the  ooze  from  flowing  in  and  drowning 
him  and  his  workmen. 

The  second  operation  of  making  the  pieces 
that  go  into  the  structure  is  simply  the  following 
out  of  the  clearly  drawn  plans  furnished  by  the 
designing  engineers.  Different  grades  of  steel 
and  iron  are  moulded  or  forged  into  shape  and 
riveted  together,  each  part  being  made  the 
exact  size  and  shape  required,  even  the  position 
of  the  holes  through  which  the  bolts  or  rivets 
are  to  go  that  are  to  secure  it  to  the  neighbouring 
section  being  marked  on  the  plan. 

The  foundations  for  bridges  are  not  always 
139 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

put  down  by  the  builders  of  the  bridge  proper; 
that  is  a  work  by  itself  and  requires  special 
experience.  On  the  strength  and  permanency 
of  the  foundation  depends  the  life  of  the  bridge. 
While  the  foundries  and  steel  mills  are  making 
the  metal- work  the  foundations  are  being  laid. 
If  the  bridge  is  to  cross  a  valley,  or  carry  the 
roadway  on  the  level  across  a  depression,  the 
placing  of  the  foundations  is  a  simple  matter  of 
digging  or  blasting  out  a  big  hole  and  laying 
courses  of  masonry;  but  if  a  pier  is  to  be  built 
in  water,  or  the  land  on  which  the  towers  are 
to  stand  is  unstable,  then  the  problem  is 
much  more  difficult. 

For  bridges  like  those  that  connect  New  York 
and  Brooklyn,  the  towers  of  which  rest  on  bed- 
rock below  the  river's  bottom,  caissons  are  sunk 
and  the  massive  masonry  is  built  upon  them. 
If  you  take  a  glass  and  sink  it  in  water,  bottom 
up,  carefully,  so  that  the  air  will  not  escape, 
it  will  be  noticed  that  the  water  enters  the 
glass  but  a  little  way:  the  air  prevents  the 
water  from  filling  the  glass.  The  caisson  works 
on  the  same  principle,  except  that  the  air  in 
the  great  boxlike  chamber  is  highly  compressed 
by  powerful  pumps  and  keeps  the  water  and 
river  ooze  out  altogether. 

The  caissons  of  the  third  bridge  across  the 
140 


BRIDGE-BUILDING    ACHIEVEMENTS 

East  River  were  as  big  as  a  good-sized  house — 
about  one  hundred  feet  long  and  eighty  feet 
wide.  It  took  five  large  tugs  more  than  two 
days  to  get  one  of  them  in  its  proper  place. 
Anchored  in  its  exact  position,  it  was  slowly 
sunk  by  building  the  masonry  of  the  tower 
upon  it,  and  when  the  lower  edges  of  the  great 
box  rested  on  the  bottom  of  the  river  men 
were  sent  down  through  an  air-lock  which 
worked  a  good  deal  like  the  lock  of  a  canal. 
The  men,  two  or  three  at  a  time,  entered  a  small 
round  chamber  built  of  steel  which  was  fitted 
with  two  air-tight  doors  at  the  top  and  bottom; 
when  they  were  inside  the  air-lock,  the  upper 
door  was  closed  and  clamped  tight,  just  as  the 
gates  leading  from  the  lower  level  of  a  canal 
are  closed  after  the  boat  is  in  the  lock;  then 
very  gradually  the  air  in  the  compartment  is 
compressed  by  an  air-compressor  until  the 
pressure  in  the  air-lock  is  the  same  as  that 
in  the  caisson  chamber,  when  the  lower  door 
opened  and  allowed  the  men  to  enter  the  great 
dim  room.  Imagine  a  room  eighty  by  one 
hundred  feet,  low  and  criss-crossed  by  massive 
timber  braces,  resting  on  the  black,  slimy  mud 
of  the  river  bottom;  electric  lights  shine  dimly, 
showing  the  half-naked  workmen  toiling  with 
tremendous  energy  by  reason  of  the  extra 
141 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

quantity  of  oxygen  in  the  compressed  air.  The 
workmen  dug  the  earth  and  mud  from  under 
the  iron-shod  edges  of  the  caisson,  and  the 
weight  of  the  masonry  being  continually  added 
to  above  sunk  the  great  box  lower  and  lower. 
From  time  to  time  the  earth  was  mixed  with 
water  and  sucked  to  the  surface  by  a  great 
pump.  With  hundreds  of  tons  of  masonry 
above,  and  the  watery  mud  of  the  river  on  all 
sides  far  below  the  keels  of  the  vessels  that 
passed  to  and  fro  all  about,  the  men  worked 
under  a  pressure  that  was  two  or  three  times 
as  great  as  the  fifteen  pounds  to  the  square 
inch  that  every  one  is  accustomed  to  above 
ground.  If  the  pressure  relaxed  for  a  moment 
the  lives  of  the  men  would  be  snuffed  out 
instantly — drowned  by  the  inrushing  waters; 
if  the  excavation  was  not  even  all  around,  the 
balance  of  the  top-heavy  structure  would  be 
lost,  the  men  killed,  and  the  work  destroyed 
entirely.  But  so  carefully  is  this  sort  of  work 
done  that  such  an  accident  rarely  occurs,  and 
the  caissons  are  sunk  till  they  rest  on  bed-rock 
or  permanent,  solid  ground,  far  below  the 
scouring  effect  of  currents  and  tides.  Then  the 
air-chamber  is  filled  with  concrete  and  left  to 
support  the  great  towers  that  pierce  the  sky 
above  the  waters. 

142 


o| 


O    g 
•7     c 


H 

o   -^ 


Q    E 


•\TSRT 
or  THE 


UNIVERSITY 


BRIDGE-BUILDING  ACHIEVEMENTS 

The  pneumatic  tube,  which  is  practically  a 
steel  caisson  on  a  small  scale  operated  in  the 
same  way,  is  often  used  for  small  towers,  and 
many  of  the  steel  sky-scrapers  of  the  cities  are 
built  on  foundations  of  this  sort  when  the 
ground  is  unstable. 

Foundations  of  wooden  and  iron  piles,  driven 
deep  in  the  ground  below  the  river  bottom, 
are  perhaps  the  most  common  in  use.  The 
piles  are  sawed  off  below  the  surface  of  the 
water  and  a  platform  built  upon  them,  which 
in  turn  serves  as  the  foundation  for  the  masonry. 

The  great  Eads  Bridge,  which  was  built  across 
the  Mississippi  at  St.  Louis,  is  supported  by 
towers  the  foundations  of  which  are  sunk  107 
feet  below  the  ordinary  level  of  the  water;  at 
this  depth  the  men  working  in  the  caissons  were 
subjected  to  a  pressure  of  nearly  fifty  pounds 
to  the  square  inch,  almost  equal  to  that  used 
to  run  some  steam-engines. 

The  bridge  across  the  Hudson  at  Poughkeepsie 
was  built  on  a  crib  or  caisson  open  at  the  top 
and  sunk  by  means  of  a  dredge  operated  from 
above  taking  out  the  material  from  the  inside. 
The  wonder  of  this  is  hard  to  realise  unless  it  is 
remembered  that  the  steel  hands  of  the  dredge 
were  worked  entirely  from  above,  and  the  steel 
rope  sinews  reached  down  below  the  surface 
'43 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

more  than  one  hundred  feet  sometimes;  yet 
so  cleverly  was  the  work  managed  that  the 
excavation  was  perfect  all  around,  and  the 
crib  sank  absolutely  straight  and  square. 

It  is  the  fourth  department  of  bridge-building 
that  requires  the  greatest  amount  not  only  of 
knowledge  but  of  resourcefulness.  In  the  final 
process  of  erection  conditions  are  likely  to 
arise  that  were  not  considered  when  the  plans 
were  drawn. 

The  chief  engineer  in  charge  of  the  erection 
of  a  bridge  far  from  civilisation  is  a  little  king, 
for  it  is  necessary  for  him  to  have  the  power  of  an 
absolute  monarch  over  his  army  of  workmen, 
which  is  often  composed  of  many  different  races. 

With  so  many  thousand  tons  of  steel  and 
stone  dumped  on  the  ground  at  the  bridge  site, 
with  a  small  force  of  expert  workmen  and  a 
greater  number  of  unskilled  labourers,  in  spite 
of  bad  weather,  floods,  or  fearful  heat,  the 
constructing  engineer  is  expected  to  finish  the 
work  within  the  specified  time,  and  yet  it  must 
withstand  the  most  exacting  tests. 

In  the  heart  of  Africa,  five  hundred  miles 
from  the  coast  and  the  source  of  supplies,  an 
American  engineer,  aided  by  twenty-one 
American  bridgemen,  built  twenty-seven  via- 
ducts from  128  to  888  feet  long  within  a  year. 
144 


BRIDGE-BUILDING  ACHIEVEMENTS 

The  work  was  done  in  half  the  time  and  at  half 
the  cost  demanded  by  the  English  bidders. 
Mr.  Lueder,  the  chief  engineer,  tells,  in  his 
account  of  the  work,  of  shooting  lions  from  the 
car  windows  of  the  temporary  railroad,  and  of 
seeing  ostriches  try  to  keep  pace  with  the 
locomotive,  but  he  said  little  of  his  difficulties 
with  unskilled  workmen,  foreign  customs,  and 
almost  unspeakable  languages.  The  bridge 
engineer  the  world  over  is  a  man  who  accom- 
plishes things,  and  who,  furthermore,  talks  little 
of  his  achievements. 

Though  the  work  of  the  bridge  builders 
within  easy  reach  of  the  steel  mills  and  large 
cities  is  less  unusual,  it  is  none  the  less 
adventurous. 

In  1897,  a  steel  arch  bridge  was  completed 
that  was  built  around  the  old  suspension 
bridge  spanning  the  Niagara  River  over  the 
Whirlpool  Rapids.  The  old  suspension  bridge 
had  been  in  continuous  service  since  1855  and 
had  outlived  its  usefulness.  It  was  decided  to 
build  a  new  one  on  the  same  spot,  and  yet  the 
traffic  in  the  meantime  must  not  be  disturbed 
in  the  least.  It  would  seem  that  this  was 
impossible,  but  the  engineers  intrusted  with  the 
work  undertook  it  with  perfect  confidence.  To 
any  one  who  has  seen  the  rushing,  roaring,  foam- 

145 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

ing  waters  of  unknown  depth  that'  race  so  fast 
from  the  spray-veiled  falls  that  they  are  heaped 
up  in  the  middle,  the  mere  thought  of  men 
handling  huge  girders  of  steel  above  the  torrent, 
and  of  standing  on  frail  swinging  platforms 
two  hundred  or  more  feet  above  the  rapids, 
causes  chills  to  run  down  the  spine;  yet  the 
work  was  undertaken  without  the  slightest 
doubt  of  its  successful  fulfilment. 

It  was  manifestly  impossible  to  support  the 
new  structure  from  below,  and  the  old  bridge 
was  carrying  about  all  it  could  stand,  so  it  was 
necessary  to  build  the  new  arch,  without 
support  from  underneath,  over  the  foaming 
water  of  the  Niagara  rapids  two  hundred  feet 
below.  Steel  towers  were  built  on  either  side 
of  the  gorge,  and  on  them  was  laid  the  platform 
of  the  bridge  from  the  towers  nearest  to  the 
water  around  and  under  the  old  structure. 
The  upper  works  were  carried  to  the  solid 
ground  on  a  level  with  the  rim  of  the  gorge 
and  there  securely  anchored  with  steel  rods 
and  chains  held  in  masonry.  Then  from 
either  side  the  arch  was  built  plate  by  plate 
from  above,  the  heavy  sheets  of  steel  being 
handled  from  a  traveller  or  derrick  that  was 
pushed  out  farther  and  farther  over  the  stream 
as  fast  as  the  upper  platform  was  completed. 
146 


BRIDGE-BUILDING  ACHIEVEMENTS 

The  great  mass  of  metal  on  both  sides  of  the 
Niagara  hung  over  the  stream,  and  was  only 
held  from  toppling  over  by  the  rods  and  chains 
solidly  anchored  on  shore.  Gradually  the  two 
ends  of  the  uncompleted  arch  approached  each 
other,  the  amount  of  work  on  each  part  being 
exactly  equal,  until  but  a  small  space  was  left 
between.  The  work  was  so  carefully  planned 
and  exactly  executed  that  the  two  completed 
halves  of  the  arch  did  not  meet,  but  when  all 
was  in  readiness  the  chains  on  each  side,  bearing 
as  they  did  the  weight  of  more  than  1,000,000 
pounds,  were  lengthened  just  enough,  and  the 
two  ends  came  together,  clasping  hands  over 
the  great  gorge.  Soon  the  tracks  were  laid, 
and  the  new  bridge  took  up  the  work  of  the 
old,  and  then,  piece  by  piece,  the  old  suspension 
bridge,  the  first  of  its  kind,  was  demolished  and 
taken  away. 

Over  the  Niagara  gorge  also  was  built  one 
of  the  first  cantilever  bridges  ever  constructed. 
To  uphold  it,  two  towers  were  built  close  to  the 
water's  edge  on  either  side,  and  then  from  the 
towers  to  the  shores,  on  a  level  with  the  upper 
plateau,  the  steel  fabric,  composed  of  slender 
rods  and  beams  braced  to  stand  the  great 
weight  it  would  have  to  carry,  was  built  on 
false  work  and  secured  to  solid  anchorages  on 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

shore.  Then  on  this,  over  tracks  laid  for  the 
purpose,  a  crane  was  run  (the  same  process 
being  carried  out  on  both  sides  of  the  river 
simultaneously),  and  so  the  span  was  built  over 
the  water  239  feet  above  the  seething  stream,  the 
shore  ends  balancing  the  outer  sections  until  the 
two  arms  met  and  were  joined  exactly  in  the 
middle.  This  bridge  required  but  eight  months  to 
build,  and  was  finished  in  1883.  From  the  car 
windows  hardly  any  part  of  the  slender  structure 
can  be  seen,  and  the  train  seems  to  be  held  over 
the  foaming  torrent  by  some  invisible  support, 
yet  hundreds  of  trains  have  passed  over  it,  the 
winds  of  many  storms  have  torn  at  its  members, 
heat  and  cold  have  tried  by  expansion  and 
contraction  to  rend  it  apart,  yet  the  bridge 
is  as  strong  as  ever. 

Sometimes  bridges  are  built  a  span  or  section 
at  a  time  and  placed  on  great  barges,  raised 
to  just  their  proper  height,  and  floated  down 
to  the  piers  and  there  secured. 

A  railroad  bridge  across  the  Schuylkill  at 
Philadelphia  was  judged  inadequate  for  the  work 
it  had  to  do,  and  it  was  deemed  necessary  to 
replace  it  with  a  new  one.  The  towers  it  rested 
upon,  therefore,  were  widened,  and  another, 
stronger  bridge  was  built  alongside,  the  new  one 
put  upon  rollers  as  was  the  old,  and  then  between 
148 


BRIDGE-BUILDING  ACHIEVEMENTS 

trains  the  old  structure  was  pushed  to  one 
side,  still  resting  on  the  widened  piers,  and  the 
new  bridge  was  pushed  into  its  place,  the  whole 
operation  occupying  less  than  three  minutes. 
The  new  replaced  the  old  between  the  passing 
of  trains  that  run  at  four  or  five-minute  intervals. 
The  Eads  Bridge,  which  crosses  the  Mississippi 
at  St.  Louis,  was  built  on  a  novel  plan.  Its 
deep  foundations  have  already  been  mentioned. 
The  great  "Father  of  Waters"  is  notoriously 
fickle;  its  channel  is  continually  changing,  the 
current  is  swift,  and  the  frequent  floods  fill  up 
and  scour  out  new  channels  constantly.  It  was 
necessary,  therefore,  in  order  to  span  the  great 
stream,  to  place  as  few  towers  as  possible  and 
build  entirely  from  above  or  from  the  towers 
themselves.  It  was  a  bold  idea,  and  many 
predicted  its  failure,  but  Captain  Eads,  the 
great  engineer,  had  the  courage  of  his  con- 
victions and  carried  out  his  plans  successfully. 
From  each  tower  a  steel  arch  was  started  on 
each  side,  built  of  steel  tubes  braced  securely; 
the  building  on  each  side  of  every  tower  was 
carried  on  simultaneously,  one  side  of  every 
arch  balancing  the  weight  on  the  other  side. 
Each  section  was  like  a  gigantic  seesaw,  the 
tower  acting  as  the  centre  support;  the  ends, 
of  course,  not  swinging  up  and  down. 
149 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

Gradually  the  two  sections  of  every  arch 
approached  each  other  until  they  met  over 
the  turbid  water  and  were  permanently  con- 
nected. With  the  completion  of  the  three 
arches,  built  entirely  from  the  piers  supporting 
them,  the  great  stream  was  spanned.  The 
Eads  Bridge  was  practically  a  double  series 
of  cantilevers  balancing  on  the  towers.  Three 
arches  were  built,  the  longest  being  520  feet  long 
and  the  two  shorter  ones  502  feet  each. 

Every  situation  that  confronts  the  bridge 
builder  requires  different  handling;  at  one 
time  he  may  be  called  upon  to  construct  a 
bridge  alongside  of  a  narrow,  rocky  cleft  over 
a  rushing  stream  like  the  Royal  Gorge,  Colorado, 
where  the  track  is  hung  from  two  great  beams 
stretched  across  the  chasm,  or  he  may  be 
required  to  design  and  construct  a  viaduct  like 
that  gossamer  structure  three  hundred  and  five 
feet  high  and  nearly  a  half-mile  long  across  the 
Kinzua  Creek,  in  Pennsylvania.  Problems 
which  have  nothing  to  do  with  mechanics  often 
try  his  courage  and  tax  his  resources,  and 
many  difficulties  though  apparently  trivial, 
develop  into  serious  troubles.  The  caste  of  the 
different  native  gangs  who  worked  on  the 
twenty-seven  viaducts  built  in  Central  Africa 
is  a  case  in  point:  each  group  belonging  to  the 
150 


BEGINNING   AN    AMERICAN    BRIDGE    IN    MID-AFRICA 


ANOTHER    VIEW    OF    THE    GOKTEIK    VIADUCT 


BRIDGE-BUILDING  ACHIEVEMENTS 

same  caste  had  to  be  provided  with  its  own 
quarters,  cooking  utensils,  and  camp  furniture, 
and  dire  were  the  consequences  of  a  mix-up 
during  one  of  the  frequent  moves  made  by  the 
whole  party. 

And  so  the  work  of  a  bridge  builder,  whether 
it  is  creating  out  of  a  mere  jumble  of  facts  and 
figures  a  giant  structure,  the  shaping  of  glowing 
metal  to  exact  measurements,  the  delving  in 
the  slime  under  water  for  firm  foundations,  or 
the  throwing  of  webs  of  steel  across  yawning 
chasms  or  over  roaring  streams,  is  never 
monotonous,  is  often  adventurous,  and  in  many, 
many  instances  is  a  great  civilising  influence. 


SUBMARINES  IN  WAR  AND  PEACE 


SUBMARINES  IN  WAR  AND 
PEACE 

DURING  the  early  part  of  the  Spanish- 
American  war  a  fleet  of  vessels  patrolled 
the  Atlantic  coast  from  Florida  to  Maine. 
The  Spanish  Admiral  Cervera  had  left  the 
home  waters  with  his  fleet  of  cruisers  and 
torpedo-boats  and  no  one  knew  where  they 
were.  The  lookouts  on  all  the  vessels  were 
ordered  to  keep  a  sharp  watch  for  strange 
ships,  and  especially  for  those  having  a  warlike 
appearance.  All  the  newspapers  and  letters 
received  on  board  the  different  cruisers  of  the 
patrol  fleet  told  of  the  anxiety  felt  in  the  coast 
towns  and  of  the  fear  that  the  Spanish  ships 
would  appear  suddenly  and  begin  a  bombard- 
ment. To  add  to  the  excitement  and  expecta- 
tion, especially  of  the  green  crews,  the  men 
were  frequently  called  out  of  their  comfortable 
hammocks  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  and  sent 
to  their  stations  at  guns  and  ammunition  maga- 
zines, just  as  if  a  battle  was  imminent;  all  this 
was  for  the  purpose  of  familiarising  the  crews 
155 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

with  their  duties  under  war  conditions,  though 
no  enlisted  man  knew  whether  he  was  called  to 
quarters  to  fight  or  for  drill. 

These  were  the  conditions,  then,  when  one 
bright  Sunday  the  crew  of  an  auxiliary  cruiser 
were  very  busy  cleaning  ship — a  very  thorough 
and  absorbing  business.  While  the  men  were 
in  the  thick  of  the  scrubbing,  one  of  the  crew 
stood  up  to  straighten  his  back,  and  looked 
out  through  an  open  port  in  the  vessel's  side. 
As  he  looked  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  low, 
black  craft,  hardly  five  hundred  yards  off, 
coming  straight  for  the  cruiser.  The  water 
foamed  at  her  bows  and  the  black  smoke 
poured  out  of  her  funnels,  streaking  behind  her 
a  long,  sinister  cloud.  It  was  one  of  those 
venomous  little  torpedo-boats,  and  she  was 
apparently  rushing  in  at  top  speed  to  get 
within  easy  range  of  the  large  warship. 

"A  torpedo-boat  is  headed  straight  for  us," 
cried  the  man  at  the  port,  and  at  the  same 
moment  came  the  call  for  general  quarters. 

As  the  men  ran  to  their  stations  the  word 
was  passed  from  one  to  the  other,  "A  Spanish 
torpedo-boat  is  headed  for  us." 

With  haste  born  of  desperation  the  crew 
worked  to  get  ready  for  action,  and  when  all 
was  ready,  each  man  in  his  place,  guns  loaded, 

156 


SUBMARINES  IN  WAR  AND  PEACE 

firing  lanyards  in  hand,  gun-trainers  at  the 
wheels,  all  was  still — no  command  to  fire  was 
given. 

From  the  signal-boys  to  the  firemen  in  the 
stokehole — for  news  travels  fast  aboard  ship 
— all  were  expecting  the  muffled  report  and 
the  rending,  tearing  explosion  of  a  torpedo 
under  the  ship's  bottom.  The  terrible  power 
of  the  torpedo  was  known  to  all,  and  the  dread 
that  filled  the  hearts  of  that  waiting  crew  could 
not  be  put  into  words. 

Of  course  it  was  a  false  alarm.  The  torpedo- 
boat  flew  the  Stars  and  Stripes,  but  the  heavy 
smoke  concealed  it,  and  the  officers,  perceiving 
the  opportunities  for  testing  the  men,  let  it  be 
believed  that  a  boat  belonging  to  the  enemy 
was  bearing  down  on  them. 

The  crews  of  vessels  engaged  in  future  wars 
will  have,  not  only  swifter,  surer  torpedo-boats 
to  menace  them,  but  even  more  dreadful  foes. 

The  conning  towers  of  the  submarines  show 
but  a  foot  or  two  above  the  surface — a  sinister 
black  spot  on  the  water,  like  the  dorsal  fin  of  a 
shark,  that  suggests  but  does  not  reveal  the 
cruel  power  below;  for  an  instant  the  knob 
lingers  above  the  surface  while  the  steersman 
gets  his  bearings,  and  then  it  sinks  in  a  swirling 
eddy,  leaving  no  mark  showing  in  what  direction 
157 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

it  has  travelled.  Then  the  crew  of  the  exposed 
warship  wait  and  wonder  with  a  sickening  cold 
fear  in  their  hearts  how  soon  the  crash  will 
come,  and  pray  that  the  deadly  submarine 
torpedo  will  miss  its  mark. 

Submarine  torpedo-boats  are  actual,  practical 
working  vessels  to-day,  and  already  they  have 
to  be  considered  in  the  naval  plans  for  attack 
and  defense. 

Though  the  importance  of  submarines  in 
warfare,  and  especially  as  a  weapon  of  defense, 
is  beginning  to  be  thoroughly  recognised,  it 
took  a  long  time  to  arouse  the  interest  of  naval 
men  and  the  public  generally  sufficient  to  give 
the  inventors  the  support  they  needed. 

Americans  once  had  within  their  grasp  the 
means  to  blow  some  of  their  enemies'  ships  out 
of  the  water,  but  they  did  not  realise  it,  as  will 
be  shown  in  the  following,  and  for  a  hundred 
years  the  progress  in  this  direction  was  hindered. 

It  was  during  the  American  Revolution  that 
a  man  went  below  the  surface  of  the  waters  of 
New  York  Harbour  in  a  submarine  boat  just 
big  enough  to  hold  him,  and  in  the  darkness 
and  gloom  of  the  under-water  world  propelled 
his  turtle-like  craft  toward  the  British  ships 
anchored  in  mid-stream.  On  the  outside  shell 
of  the  craft  rested  a  magazine  with  a  heavy 

158 


SUBMARINES  IN  WAR  AND  PEACE 

charge  of  gunpowder  which  the  submarine 
navigator  intended  to  screw  fast  to  the  bottom 
of  a  fifty-gun  British  man-of-war,  and  which 
was  to  be  exploded  by  a  time-fuse  after  he  had 
got  well  out  of  harm's  way. 

Slowly  and  with  infinite  labour  this  first 
submarine  navigator  worked  his  way  through 
the  water  in  the  first  successful  under-water 
boat,  the  crank-handle  of  the  propelling  screw 
in  front  of  him,  the  helm  at  his  side,  and  the 
crank-handle  of  the  screw  that  raised  or  lowered 
the  craft  just  above  and  in  front.  No  other 
man  had  made  a  like  voyage;  he  had  little 
experience  to  guide  him,  and  he  lacked  the 
confidence  that  a  well-tried  device  assures;  he 
was  alone  in  a  tiny  vessel  with  but  half  an  hour's 
supply  of  air,  a  great  box  of  gunpowder  over 
him,  and  a  hostile  fleet  all  around.  It  was  a 
perilous  position  and  he  felt  it.  With  his  head 
in  the  little  conning  tower  he  was  able  to  get 
a  glimpse  of  the  ship  he  was  bent  on  destroying, 
as  from  time  to  time  he  raised  his  little  craft 
to  get  his  bearings.  At  last  he  reached  his  all- 
unsuspecting  quarry  and,  sinking  under  the 
keel,  tried  to  attach  the  torpedo.  There  in  the 
darkness  of  the  depths  of  North  River  this 
unnamed  hero,  in  the  first  practical  submarine 
boat,  worked  to  make  the  first  torpedo  fast  to 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

the  bottom  of  the  enemy's  ship,  but  a  little 
iron  plate  or  bolt  holding  the  rudder  in  place 
made  all  the  difference  between  a  failure  that 
few  people  ever  heard  of  and  a  great  achieve- 
ment that  would  have  made  the  inventor  of  the 
boat,  David  Bushnell,  famous  everywhere,  and 
the  navigator  a  great  herb.  The  little  iron  plate, 
however,  prevented  the  screw  from  taking 
hold,  the  tide  carried  the  submarine  past,  and 
the  chance  was  lost. 

David  Bushnell  was  too  far  ahead  of  his 
time,  his  invention  was  not  appreciated,  and 
the  failure  of  his  first  attempt  prevented  him 
from  getting  the  support  he  needed  to  demon- 
strate the  usefulness  of  his  under-water  craft. 
The  piece  of  iron  in  the  keel  of  the  British  war- 
ship probably  put  back  development  of  sub- 
marine boats  many  years,  for  Bushnell's  boat 
contained  many  of  the  principles  upon  which 
the  successful  under-water  craft  of  the  present 
time  are  built. 

One  hundred  and  twenty-five  years  after 
the  subsurface  voyage  described  above,  a  steel 
boat,  built  like  a  whale  but  with  a  prow  coming 
to  a  point,  manned  by  a  crew  of  six,  travelling  at 
an  average  rate  of  eight  knots  an  hour,  armed 
with  five  Whitehead  torpedoes,  and  designed 
and  built  by  Americans,  passed  directly  over 
160 


SUBMARINES  IN  WAR  AND  PEACE 

the  spot  where  the  first  submarine  boat  attacked 
the  British  fleet. 

The  Holland  boat  Fulton  had  already  travelled 
the  length  of  Long  Island  Sound,  diving  at 
intervals,  before  reaching  New  York,  and  was 
on  her  way  to  the  Delaware  Capes. 

She  was  the  invention  of  John  P.  Holland, 
and  the  result  of  twenty-five  years  of  experi- 
menting, nine  experimental  boats  having  been 
built  before  this  persistent  and  courageous 
inventor  produced  a  craft  that  came  up  to  his 
ideals.  The  cruise  of  the  Fulton  was  like  a 
march  of  triumph,  and  proved  beyond  a  doubt 
that  the  Holland  submarines  were  practical, 
sea-going  craft. 

At  the  eastern  end  of  Long  Island  the  captain 
and  crew,  six  men  in  all,  one  by  one  entered  the 
Fulton  through  the  round  hatch  in  the  conning 
tower  that  projected  about  two  feet  above  the 
back  of  the  fish-like  vessel.  Each  man  had 
his  own  particular  place  aboard  and  definite 
duties  to  perform,  so  there  was  no  need  to  move 
about  much,  nor  was  there  much  room  left  by 
the  gasoline  motor,  the  electric  motor,  storage 
batteries,  air-compressor,  and  air  ballast  and 
gasoline  tanks,  and  the  Whitehead  torpedoes. 
The  captain  stood  up  inside  of  the  conning 
tower,  with  his  eyes  on  a  level  with  the  little 
161 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

thick  glass  windows,  and  in  front  of  him  was 
the  wheel  connecting  with  the  rudder  that 
steered  the  craft  right  and  left;  almost  at  his 
feet  was  stationed  the  man  who  controlled  the 
diving-rudders;  farther  aft  was  the  engineer, 
all  ready  for  the  word  to  start  his  motor; 
another  man  controlled-  the  ballast  tanks,  and 
another  watched  the  electric  motor  and  batteries. 

With  a  clang  the  lid-like  hatch  to  the  conning 
tower  was  closed  and  clamped  fast  in  its  rubber 
setting,  the  gasoline  engine  began  its  rapid 
phut-phut,  and  the  submarine  boat  began  its 
long  journey  down  Long  Island  Sound.  The 
boat  started  in  with  her  deck  awash — that  is, 
with  two  or  three  feet  freeboard  or  of  deck 
above  the  water-line.  In  this  condition  she 
could  travel  as  long  as  her  supply  of  gasoline 
held  out — her  tanks  holding  enough  to  drive 
her  560  knots  at  the  speed  of  six  knots  an  hour, 
when  in  the  semi-awash  condition;  the  lower 
she  sank  the  greater  the  surface  exposed  to  the 
friction  of  the  water  and  the  greater  power 
expended  to  attain  a  given  speed. 

As  the  vessel  jogged  along,  with  a  good  part 
of  her  deck  showing  above  the  waves,  her  air 
ventilators  were  open  and  the  burnt  gas  of  the 
engine  was  exhausted  right  out  into  the  open; 
the  air  was  as  pure  as  in  the  cabin  of  an  ordinary 
162 


SUBMARINES  IN  WAR  AND  PEACE 

ship.  Besides  the  work  of  propelling  the  boat, 
the  engine  being  geared  to  the  electric  motor 
made  it  revolve,  so  turning  it  into  a  dynamo 
that  created  electricity  and  filled  up  the  storage 
batteries. 

From  time  to  time,  as  this  whale-like  ship 
plowed  the  waters  of  the  Sound,  a  big  wave 
would  flow  entirely  over  her,  and  the  captain 
would  be  looking  right  into  the  foaming  crest. 
The  boat  was  built  for  under-water  going,  so 
little  daylight  penetrated  the  interior  through 
the  few  small  deadlights,  or  round,  heavy  glass 
windows,  but  electric  incandescent  bulbs  fed 
by  current  from  the  storage  batteries  lit  the 
interior  brilliantly. 

The  boat  had  not  proceeded  far  when  the 
captain  ordered  the  crew  to  prepare  to  dive, 
and  immediately  the  engine  was  shut  down 
and  the  clutch  connecting  its  shaft  with  the 
electric  apparatus  thrown  off  and  another 
connecting  the  electric  motor  with  the  pro- 
peller thrown  in;  a  switch  was  then  turned  and 
the  current  from  the  storage  batteries  set  the 
motor  and  propeller  spinning.  While  this  was 
being  done  another  man  was  letting  water 
into  her  ballast  tanks  to  reduce  her  buoyancy. 
When  all  but  the  conning  tower  was  submerged 
the  captain  looked  at  the  compass  to  see  how 

•  163 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

she  was  heading,  noted  that  no  vessels  were 
near  enough  to  make  a  submarine  collision 
likely,  and  gave  the  word  to  the  man  at  his  feet 
to  dive  twenty  feet.  Then  a  strange  thing  hap- 
pened. The  diving-helmsman  gave  a  twist  to 
the  wheel  that  connected  with  the  horizontal 
rudders  aft  of  the  propeller,  and  immediately  the 
boat  slanted  downward  at  an  angle  of  ten 
degrees ;  the  water  rose  about  the  conning  tower 
until  the  little  windows  were  level  with  the  sur- 
face, and  then  they  were  covered,  and  the 
captain  looked  into  solid  water  that  was  still 
turned  yellowish-green  by  the  light  of  the  sun; 
then  swiftly  descending,  he  saw  but  the  faintest 
gleam  of  green  light  coming  through  twenty 
feet  of  water.  The  Fulton,  with  six  men  in 
her,  was  speeding  along  at  five  knots  an  hour 
twenty  feet  below  the  shining  waters  of  the 
Sound. 

The  diving-helmsman  kept  his  eye  on  a  gauge 
in  front  of  him  that  measured  the  pressure  of 
water  at  the  varying  depths,  but  the  dial  was  so 
marked  that  it  told  him  just  how  many  feet  the 
Fulton  was  below  the  surface.  Another  device 
showed  whether  the  boat  was  on  an  even  keel 
or,  if  not  exactly,  how  many  degrees  she  slanted 
up  or  down. 

With  twenty  feet  of  salt  water  above  her 


SUBMARINES  IN  WAR  AND  PEACE 

and  as  much  below,  this  mechanical  whale 
cruised  along  with  her  human  freight  as  com- 
fortable as  they  would  have  been  in  the  same 
space  ashore.  The  vessel  contained  sufficient 
air  to  last  them  several  hours,  and  when  it 
became  vitiated  there  were  always  the  tanks 
of  compressed  air  ready  to  be  drawn  upon. 

Except  for  the  hum  of  the  motor  and  the 
slight  clank  of  the  steering-gear,  all  was  silent; 
none  of  the  .noises  of  the  outer  world  penetrated 
the  watery  depths ;  neither  the  slap  of  the  waves, 
the  whir  of  the  breeze,  the  hiss  of  steam,  nor 
rattle  of  rigging  accompanied  the  progress  of 
this  submarine  craft.  As  silently  as  a  fish,  as 
far  as  the  outer  world  was  concerned,  the 
Fulton  crept  through  the  submarine  darkness. 
If  an  enemy's  ship  was  near  it  would  be  an 
easy  thing  to  discharge  one  of  the  five  White- 
head  torpedoes  she  carried  and  get  out  of  harm's 
way  before  it  struck  the  bottom  of  the  ship 
and  exploded. 

In  the  tube  which  opened  at  the  very  tip  end 
of  the  nose  of  the  craft  lay  a  Whitehead  (or 
automobile)  torpedo,  which  when  properly  set 
and  ejected  by  compressed  air  propelled  itself 
at  a  predetermined  depth  at  a  speed  of  thirty 
knots  an  hour  until  it  struck  the  object  it  was 
aimed  at  or  its  compressed  air  power  gave  out. 

165 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

The  seven  Holland  boats  built  for  the  United 
States  Navy,  of  which  the  Fulton  is  a  prototype, 
carry  five  of  these  torpedoes,  one  in  the  tube  and 
two  on  either  side  of  the  hold,  and  each  boat  is 
also  provided  with  one  compensating  tank  for 
each  torpedo,  so  that  when  one  or  all  are  fired 
their  weight  may  be-  compensated  by  filling 
the  tanks  with  water  so  that  the  trim  of  the 
vessel  will  be  kept  the  same  and  her  stability 
retained. 

The  Fulton,  however,  was  bent  on  a  peaceful 
errand,  and  carried  dummy  torpedoes  instead 
of  the  deadly  engines  of  destruction  that  the 
man-o'-war's  man  dreads. 

"Dive  thirty,"  ordered  the  captain,  at  the 
same  time  giving  his  wheel  a  twist  to  direct  the 
vessel's  course  according  to  the  pointing  finger 
of  the  compass. 

"Dive  thirty,  sir,"  repeated  the  steersman 
below,  and  with  a  slight  twist  of  his  gear  the 
horizontal  rudders  turned  and  the  submarine 
inclined  downward;  the  level-indicator  showed 
a  slight  slant  and  the  depth-gauge  hand  turned 
slowly  round — twenty-two,  twenty-five,  twenty- 
eight,  then  thirty  feet,  when  the  helmsman 
turned  his  wheel  back  a  little  and  the  vessel 
forged  ahead  on  a  level  keel. 

At  thirty  feet  below  the  surface  the  little 
166 


SUBMARINES  IN  WAR  AND  PEACE 

craft,  built  like  a  cigar  on  purpose  to  stand 
a  tremendous  squeeze,  was  subjected  to  a  pres- 
sure of  2,160  pounds  to  the  square  foot.  To 
realise  this  pressure  it  will  be  necessary  to 
think  of  a  slab  of  iron  a  foot  square  and  weigh- 
ing 2,160  pounds  pressing  on  every  foot  of  the 
outer  surface  of  the  craft.  Of  course,  the 
squeeze  is  exerted  on  all  sides  of  the  submarine 
boats  when  fully  submerged,  just  as  every  one 
is  subjected  to  an  atmospheric  pressure  of 
fifteen  pounds  to  the  square  inch  on  every 
inch  of  his  body. 

The  Fulton  and  other  submarine  boats  are  so 
strongly  built  and  thoroughly  braced  that  they 
could  stand  an  even  greater  pressure  without 
damage. 

When  the  commander  of  the  Fulton  ordered 
his  vessel  to  the  surface,  the  diving-steersman 
simply  reversed  his  rudders  so  that  they  turned 
upward,  and  the  propeller,  aided  by  the  natural 
buoyancy  of  the  boat,  simply  pushed  her  to 
the  surface.  The  Holland  boats  have  a  reserve 
buoyancy,  so  that  if  anything  should  happen 
to  the  machinery  they  would  rise  unaided  to  the 
surface. 

Compressed  air  was  turned  into  the  ballast 
tanks,  the  water  forced  out  so  that  the  boat's 
buoyancy  was  increased,  and  she  floated  in  a 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

semi-awash,  or  light,  condition.  The  engineer 
turned  off  the  current  from  the  storage  bat- 
teries, threw  off  the  motor  from  the  propeller 
shaft,  and  connected  the  gasoline  engine,  started 
it  up,  and  inside  of  five  minutes  from  the  time 
the  Fulton  was  navigating  the  waters  of  the 
Sound  at  a  depth  of  thirty  feet  she  was  sailing 
along  on  the  surface  like  any  other  gasoline 
craft. 

And  so  the  ninety-mile  journey  down  Long 
Island  Sound,  partly  under  water,  partly  on 
the  surface,  to  New  York,  was  completed.  The 
greater  voyage  to  the  Delaware  Capes  followed, 
and  at  all  times  the  little  sixty-three-foot 
boat  that  was  but  eleven  feet  in  diameter  at 
her  greatest  girth  carried  her  crew  and  equip- 
ment with  perfect  safety  and  without  the  least 
inconvenience. 

Such  a  vessel,  small  in  size  but  great  in 
destructive  power,  is  a  force  to  be  reckoned 
with  by  the  most  powerful  battle-ship.  No 
defense  has  yet  been  devised  that  will  ward  off 
the  deadly  sting  of  the  submarine's  torpedo, 
delivered  as  it  is  from  beneath,  out  of  the  sight 
and  hearing  of  the  doomed  ships'  crews,  and 
exploded  against  a  portion  of  the  hull  that 
cannot  be  adequately  protected  by  armour. 

Though  the  conning-dome  of  a  submarine 
168 


SUBMARINES  IN  WAR  AND  PEACE 

presents  a  very  small  target,  its  appearance 
above  water  shows  iier  position  and  gives 
warning  of  her  approach.  To  avoid  this  tell- 
tale an  instrument  called  a  periscope  has  been 
invented,  which  looks  like  a  bottle  on  the  end 
of  a  tube;  this  has  lenses  and  mirrors  that 
reflect  into  the  interior  of  the  submarine  what- 
ever shows  above  water.  The  bottle  part  pro- 
jects above,  while  the  tube  penetrates  the 
interior. 

The  very  unexpectedness  of  the  submarine's 
attack,  the  mere  knowledge  that  they  are  in 
the  vicinity  of  a  fleet  and  may  launch  their 
deadly  missiles  at  any  time,  is  enough  to  break 
down  the  nerves  of  the  strongest  and  eventually 
throw  into  a  panic  the  bravest  crew. 

That  the  crews  of  the  warships  will  have  to 
undergo  the  strain  of  submarine  attack  in  the 
next  naval  war  is  almost  sure.  All  the  great 
nations  of  the  world  have  built  fleets  of  sub- 
marines or  are  preparing  to  do  so. 

In  the  development  of  under-water  fighting- 
craft  France  leads,  as  she  has  the  largest  fleet 
and  was  the  first  to  encourage  the  designing 
and  building  of  them.  But  it  was  David 
Bushnell  that  invented  and  built  the  first 
practical  working  submarine  boat,  and  in  point 
of  efficiency  and  practical  working  under  service 
169 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

conditions  in  actual  readiness  for  hostile  action 
the  American  boats  excel  to-day. 


rr    ric  aU, 

UNDER  the  green  sea,  in  the  total  darkness 
df  the  great  depths  and  the  yellowish-green 
of  the  shallows  of  the-  oceans,  with  the  sea- 
weeds waving  their  fronds  about  their  barnacle- 
encrusted  timbers  and  the  creatures  of  the 
deep  playing  in  and  about  the  decks  and 
rotted  rigging,  lie  hundreds  of  wrecks.  Many 
a  splendid  ship  with  a  valuable  cargo  has  gone 
down  off  a  dangerous  coast;  many  a  hoard  of 
gold  or  silver,  gathered  with  infinite  pains  from 
the  far  corners  of  the  earth/lies  intact  in  de- 
caying strong  boxes  on  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 
To  recover  the  treasures  of  the  deep,  expedi- 
tions have  been  organised,  ships  have  sailed, 
divers  have  descended,  and  crews  have  braved 
great  dangers.  Many  great  wrecking  companies 
have  been  formed  which  accomplish  wonders 
in  the  saving  of  wrecked  vessels  and  cargoes. 
But  in  certain  places  all  the  time  and  at  others 
part  of  the  time,  wreckers  have  had  to  leave 
valuable  wrecks  a  prey  to  the  merciless  sea 
because  the  ocean  is  too  angry  and  the  waves 
too  high  to  permit  of  the  safe  handling  of 
the  air-hose  and  life-line  of  the  divers  who 
170 


SUBMARINES  IN  WAR  AND  PEAC& 

are  depended  upon  to  do  all  the  under-water 
work,  rigging  of  hoisting-tackle,  placing  of 
buoys,  etc.  Indeed,  it  is  often  impossible  for 
a  vessel  to  stay  in  one  place  long  enough  to 
accomplish  anything,  or,  in  fact,  to  venture 
to  the  spot  at  all. 

It  was  an  American  boy  who,  after  reading 
Jules  Verne's  "Twenty  Thousand  Leagues 
Under  the  Sea,"  said  to  himself,  "Why  not?" 
and  from  that  time  set  out  to  put  into  practice 
what  the  French  writer  had  imagined. 

Simon  Lake  set  to  work  to  invent  a  way  by 
which  a  wrecked  vessel  or  a  precious  cargo 
could  be  got  at  from  below  the  surface.  Though 
the  waves  may  be  tossing  their  whitecaps  high 
in  air  and  the  strong  wind  may  turn  the  watery 
plain  into  rolling  hills  of  angry  seas,  the  water 
twenty  or  thirty  feet  below  hardly  feels  any 
surface  motion.  So  he  set  to  work  to  build  a 
vessel  that  should  be  able  to  sail  on  the  surface 
or  travel  on  the  bottom,  and  provide  a  shelter 
from  which  divers  could  go  at  will,  undisturbed 
by  the  most  tempestuous  sea.  People  laughed 
at  his  idea,  and  so  he  found  great  difficulty  in 
getting  enough  capital  to  carry  out  his  plan, 
and  his  first  boat,  built  largely  with  his  own 
hands,  had  little  in  its  appearance  to  inspire 
confidence  in  his  scheme.  Built  of  wood, 
171 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

fourteen  feet  long  and  five  feet  deep,  fitted 
with  three  wheels,  Argonaut  Junior  looked 
not  unlike  a  large  go-cart  such  as  boys 
make  out  of  a  soap-box  and  a  set  of  wooden 
wheels.  The  boat,  however,  made  actual  trips, 
navigated  by  its  inventor,  proving  that  his 
plan  was  feasible.  Argonaut  Junior,  having 
served  its  purpose,  was  abandoned,  and  now 
lies  neglected  on  one  of  the  beaches  of  New 
York  Bay. 

The  Argonaut,  Mr.  Lake's  second  vessel,  had 
the  regular  submarine  look,  except  that  she 
was  equipped  with  two  great,  rough  tread- 
wheels  forward,  and  to  the  underside  of  her 
rudder  was  pivoted  another.  She  was  really  an 
under-water  tricycle,  a  diving-bell,  a  wrecking- 
craft,  and  a  surface  gasoline-boat  all  rolled  into 
one.  When  floating  on  the  surface  she  looked 
not  unlike  an  ordinary  sailing  craft;  two  long 
spars,  each  about  thirty  feet  above  the  deck, 
forming  the  letter  A — these  were  the  pipes  that 
admitted  fresh  air  and  discharged  the  burnt 
gases  of  the  gasoline  motor  and  the  vitiated  air 
that  had  been  breathed.  A  low  deck  gave  a 
ship-shape  appearance  when  floating,  but  below 
she  was  shaped  like  a  very  fat  cigar.  Under 
the  deck  and  outside  of  the  hull  proper  were 
placed  her  gasoline  tanks,  safe  from  any  possible 
172 


SUBMARINES  IN   WAR  AND  PEACE 

danger  of  ignition  from  the  interior.  From 
her  nose  protruded  a  spar  that  looked  like  a 
bowsprit  but  which  was  in  reality  a  derrick; 
below  the  derrick-boom  were  several  glazed 
openings  that  resembled  eyes  and  a  mouth: 
these  were  the  lookout  windows  for  the  under- 
water observer  and  the  submarine  searchlight. 
The  Argonaut  was  built  to  run  on  the  surface 
or  on  the  bottom;  she  was  not  designed  to 
navigate  half-way  between.  When  in  search 
of  a  wreck  or  made  ready  for  a  cruise  along  the 
bottom,  the  trap  door  or  hatch  in  her  turret-like 
pilot  house  was  tightly  closed;  the  water  was 
let  into  her  ballast  tanks,  and  two  heavy  weights 
to  which  were  attached  strong  cables  that 
could  be  wound  or  unwound  from  the  inside 
were  lowered  from  their  recesses  in  the  fore  and 
after  part  of  the  keel  of  the  boat  to  the  bottom ; 
then  the  motor  was  started  connected  to  the 
winding  mechanism,  and,  the  buoyancy  of  the 
boat  being  greatly  reduced,  she  was  drawn  to 
the  bottom  by  the  winding  of  the  anchor  cables. 
As  she  sank,  more  and  more  water  was  taken 
into  her  tanks  until  she  weighed  slightly  more 
than  the  water  she  displaced.  When  her 
wheels  rested  on  the  bottom  her  anchor-weights 
were  pulled  completely  into  their  wells,  so  that 
they  would  not  interfere  with  her  movements. 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

Then  the  strange  submarine  vehicle  began 
her  voyage  on  the  bottom  of  the  bay  or  ocean. 
Since  the  pipes  projected  above  the  surface 
plenty  of  fresh  air  was  admitted,  and  it  was 
quite  as  easy  to  run  the  gasoline  engine  under 
water  as  on  the  surface.  In  the  turrets,  as 
far  removed  as  possible  from  the  magnetic 
influences  of  the  steel  hull,  the  compass  was 
placed,  and  an  ingeniously  arranged  mirror 
reflected  its  readings  down  below  where  the 
steersman  could  see  it  conveniently.  Aft  of 
the  steering-wheel  was  the  gasoline  motor, 
connected  with  the  propeller-shaft  and  also 
with  the  driving-wheels;  it  was  so  arranged 
that  either  could  be  thrown  out  of  gear  or 
both  operated  at  once.  She  was  equipped  with 
depth-gauges  showing  the  distance  below  the 
surface,  and  another  device  showing  the  trim  of 
the  vessel;  compressed-air  tanks,  propelling  and 
pumping  machinery,  an  air-compressor  and 
dynamo  which  supplied  the  current  to  light 
the  ship  and  also  for  the  searchlight  which 
illuminated  the  under-water  pathway — all  this 
apparatus  left  but  little  room  in  the  hold,  but 
it  was  all  so  carefully  planned  that  not  an  inch 
was  wasted,  and  space  was  still  left  for  her  crew 
of  three  or  four  to  work,  eat,  and  even  sleep, 
below  the  waves. 

174 


SUBMARINES  IN   WAR  AND  PEACE 

Forward  of  the  main  space  of  the  boat  were 
the  diving  and  lookout  compartments,  which 
really  were  the  most  important  parts  of  the 
boat,  as  far  as  her  wrecking  ability  was  con- 
cerned. By  means  of  a  trap  door  in  the  diving 
compartment  through  the  bottom  of  the  boat 
a  man  fitted  with  a  diving-suit  could  go  out 
and  explore  a  wreck  or  examine  the  bottom 
almost  as  easily  as  a  man  goes  out  of  his  front 
door  to  call  for  an  "extra."  It  will  be  thought 
at  once,  "But  the  water  will  rush  in  when  the 
trap  door  is  opened."  This  is  prevented  by 
filling  the  diving  compartment,  which  is  sepa- 
rated from  the  main  part  of  the  ship  by  steel 
walls,  with  compressed  air  of  sufficient  pressure 
to  keep  the  water  from  coming  in — that  is,  the 
pressure  of  water  from  without  equals  the 
presure  of  air  from  within  and  neither  element 
can  pass  into  the  other's  domain. 

An  air-lock  separates  the  diver's  section  from 
the  main  hold  so  that  it  is  possible  to  pass  from 
one  to  the  other  while  the  entrance  to  the  sea 
is  still  open.  A  person  entering  the  lock  from 
the  large  room  first  closes  the  door  between 
and  then  gradually  admits  the  compressed  air 
until  the  pressure  is  the  same  as  in  the  diving 
compartment,  when  the  door  into  it  may  be 
safely  opened.  When  returning,  this  operation 
175 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

is  simply  reversed.  The  lookout  stands 
forward  of  the  diver's  space.  When  the 
Argonaut  rolls  along  the  bottom,  round 
openings  protected  with  heavy  glass  permit 
the  lookout  to  follow  the  beam  of  light  thrown 
by  the  searchlight  and  see  dimly  any  sizable 
obstruction.  When  the  diving  compartment 
is  in  use  the  man  on  lookout  duty  uses  a 
portable  telephone  to  tell  his  shipmates  in  the 
main  room  what  is  happening  out  in  the  wet, 
and  by  the  same  means  the  reports  of  the 
diver  can  be  communicated  without  opening 
the  air-lock. 

This  little  ship  (thirty-six  feet  long)  has  done 
wonderful  things.  She  has  cruised  over  the 
bottom  of  Chesapeake  Bay,  New  York  Bay, 
Hampton  Roads,  and  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  her 
driving-wheels  propelling  her  when  the  bottom 
was  hard,  and  her  screw  when  the  oozy  con- 
dition of  the  submarine  road  made  her  spiked 
wheels  useless  except  to  steer  with.  Her 
passengers  have  been  able  to  examine  the  bottom 
under  twenty  feet  of  water  (without  wetting 
their  feet),  through  the  trap  door,  with  the  aid 
sf  an  electric  light  let  down  into  the  clear 
depths.  Telephone  messages  have  been  sent 
from  the  bottom  of  Baltimore  Harbour  to  the 
top  of  the  New  York  World  building,  telling  of 
176 


SUBMARINES  IN   WAR  AND  PEACE 

the  conditions  there  in  contrast  to  the  New 
York  editor's  aerial  perch.  Cables  have  been 
picked  up  and  examined  without  dredging — a 
hook  lowered  through  the  trap  door  being  all 
that  was  necessary.  Wrecks  have  been  exam- 
ined and  valuables  recovered. 

Although  the  Argonaut  travelled  over  2,000 
miles  under  water  and  on  the  surface,  propelled 
by  her  own  power,  her  inventor  was  not  satisfied 
with  her.  He  cut  her  in  two,  therefore,  and 
added  a  section  to  her,  making  her  sixty-six 
feet  long;  this  allowed  more  comfortable  quar- 
ters for  her  crew,  space  for  larger  engines,  com- 
pressors, etc. 

It  was  off  Bridgeport,  Connecticut,  that  the 
new  Argonaut  did  her  first  practical  wrecking. 
A  barge  loaded  with  coal  had  sunk  in  a  gale 
and  could  not  be  located  with  the  ordinary 
means.  The  Argonaut,  however,  with  the  aid 
of  a  device  called  the  "wreck-detector,"  also 
invented  by  Mr.  Lake,  speedily  found  it,  sank 
near  it,  and  also  submerged  a  new  kind  of 
freight-boat  built  for  the  purpose  by  the 
inventor.  A  diver  quickly  explored  the  hulk, 
opened  the  hatches  of  the  freight-boat,  which 
was  cigar-shaped  like  the  Argonaut  and  supplied 
with  wheels  so  it  could  be  drawn  over  the  bot- 
tom, and  placed  the  suction-tube  in  position 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

Seven  minutes  later  eight  tons  of  coal  had  been 
transferred  from  the  wreck  to  the  submarine 
freight-boat.  The  hatches  were  then  closed 
and  compressed  air  admitted,  forcing  out  the 
water,  and  five  minutes  later  the  freight-boat 
was  floating  on  the  surface  with  eight  tons  of 
coal  from  a  wreck  which  could  not  even  be 
located  by  the  ordinary  means. 

It  is  possible  that  in  the  future  these  modern 
"argonauts"  will  be  seeking  the  golden  fleeces 
of  the  sea  in  wrecks,  in  golden  sands  like  the 
beaches  of  Nome,  and  that  these  amphibious 
boats  will  be  ready  along  all  the  dangerous 
coasts  to  rush  to  the  rescue  of  noble  ships  and 
wrest  them  from  the  clutches  of  the  cruel  sea. 

Mr.  Lake  has  also  designed  and  built  a  sub- 
marine torpedo-boat  that  will  travel  on  the 
surface,  under  the  waves,  or  on  the  bottom; 
provided  with  both  gasoline  and  electric  power, 
and,  fitted  with  torpedo  discharge  tubes,  she 
will  be  able  to  throw  a  submarine  torpedo; 
her  diver  could  attach  a  charge  of  dynamite  to 
the  keel  of  an  anchored  warship,  or  she  could 
do  great  damage  by  hooking  up  cables  through 
her  diver's  trap  door  and  cutting  them,  and 
by  setting  adrift  anchored  torpedoes  and  sub- 
marine mines. 

Thus  have  Jules  Verne's  imaginings  come 
178 


SUBMARINES  IN  WAR  AND  PEACE 

true,  and  the  dream  Nautilus,  whose  adventures 
so  many  of  us  have  breathlessly  followed,  has 
been  succeeded  by  actual  "Hollands"  and 
practical  "Argonauts"  designed  by  American 
inventors  and  manned  by  American  crews. 


179 


LONG-DISTANCE  TELEPHONY 


UNIVERSITY 

OF 


LONG-DISTANCE  TELEPHONY 

WHAT    HAPPENS    WHEN    You   TALK   INTO    A 
TELEPHONE  RECEIVER 

IN  Omaha,  Nebraska,  half-way  across  the 
continent  and  about  forty  hours  from 
Boston  by  fast  train,  a  man  sits  comfortably 
in  his  office  chair  and,  with  no  more  exertion 
than  is  required  to  lift  a  portable  receiver  off 
his  desk,  talks  every  day  to  his  representative 
in  the  chief  New  England  city.  The  man  in 
Boston  hears  his  chief's  voice  and  can  recognise 
the  peculiarities  in  it  just  as  if  he  stood  in  the 
same  room  with  him.  The  man  in  Nebraska, 
speaking  in  an  ordinary  conversational  tone, 
can  be  heard  perfectly  well  in  Boston,  1,400 
miles  away. 

This  is  the  longest  talk  on  record — that  is, 
it  is  the  longest  continuous  telephone  line  in 
steady  and  constant  use,  though  the  human 
voice  has  been  carried  even  greater  distances 
with  the  aid  of  this  wonderful  instrument. 

The  telephone  is  so  common  that  no  one 
183 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

stops  to  consider  the  wonder  of  it,  and  not  one 
person  in  a  hundred  can  tell  how  it  works. 

At  this  time,  when  the  telephone  is  as  neces- 
sary as  pen  and  ink,  it  is  hard  to  realise  a  time 
when  men  could  not  speak  to  one  another 
from  a  distance,  yet  a  little  more  than  a  quarter 
of  a  century  ago  the  genius  who  invented  it 
first  conceived  the  great  idea. 

Sometimes  an  inventor  is  a  prophet:  he  sees 
in  advance  how  his  idea,  perfected  and  in 
universal  use,  will  change  things,  establish 
new  manners  and  customs,  new  laws  and  new 
methods.  Alexander  Graham  Bell  was  one 
of  these  prophetic  inventors — the  telephone 
was  his  invention,  not  his  discovery.  He  first 
got  the  idea  and  then  sought  a  way  to  make 
it  practical.  If  you  put  yourself  in  his  place, 
forget  what  has  been  accomplished,  and  put 
out  of  mind  how  the  voice  is  transmitted  from 
place  to  place  by  the  slender  wire,  it  would  be 
impossible  even  then  to  realise  how  much  in 
the  dark  Professor  Bell  was  in  1874. 

The  human  speaking  voice  is  full  of  changes; 
unlike  the  notes  from  a  musical  instrument, 
there  is  no  uniformity  in  it;  the  rise  and  fall 
of  inflection,  the  varying  sound  of  the  vowels 
and  consonants,  the  combinations  of  words 
and  syllables — each  produces  a  different  vibra- 
184 


cr  2 

a  2 


g  Ig* 

<J    ««    C  'd 

ill; 

PH      c8     Q)    g 
O      °   jC   ,§3 

u  H  «3 

W    "S       .2 
Z     <u   M  'g 

8  ll " 

s '  i  1 2 


^S  ^  »2 

"p, "«   o 


LONG-DISTANCE  TELEPHONY 

tion  and  different  tone.  To  devise  an  instru- 
ment that  would  receive  all  these  varying 
tones  and  inflections  and  change  them  into 
some  other  form  of  energy  so  that  they  could 
be  passed  over  a  wire,  and  then  change  them 
back  to  their  original  form,  reproducing  each 
sound  and  every  peculiarity  of  the  voice  of  the 
speaker  in  the  ear  of  the  hearer,  was  the  task 
that  Professor  Bell  set  for  himself.  Just  as 
you  would  sit  down  to  add  up  a  big  column  of 
figures,  knowing  that  sooner  or  later  you  would 
get  the  correct  answer,  so  he  set  himself  to 
work  out  this  problem  in  invention.  The 
result  of  his  study  and  determination  is  the 
telephones  we  use  to-day.  Many  improve- 
ments have  been  invented  by  other  men — • 
Berliner,  Edison,  Blake,  and  others — but  the 
idea  and  the  working  out  of  the  principle  is 
due  to  Professor  Bell. 

Every  telephone  receiver  and  transmitter 
has  a  mouth-  and  ear-piece  to  receive  or  throw 
out  the  sound,  a  thin  round  sheet  of  lacquered 
metal — called  a  diaphragm,  and  an  electro- 
magnet; together  they  reproduce  human 
speech.  An  electric  current  from  a  battery 
or  from  the  central  station  flows  continuously 
through  the  wires  wound  round  the  electro- 
magnet in  receiving  and  transmitting  instru- 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

ments,  so  when  you  speak  into  the  black  mouth- 
piece of  the  wall  or  desk  receiver  the  vibrations 
strike  against  the  thin  sheet -iron  diaphragm 
at  the  small  end  of  the  mouthpiece;  the  sound 
waves  of  the  voice  make  it  vibrate  to  a  greater 
or  less  degree;  the  diaphragm  is  placed  so  that 
the  core  of  the  eclectromagnet  is  close  to  it, 
and  as  it  vibrates  the  iron  in  it  produces  undula- 
tions (by  induction)  in  the  current  which  is 
flowing  through  the  wires  wound  round  the 
soft  iron  centre  of  the  magnet.  The  wires  of 
the  coil  are  connected  with  the  lines  that  go  to 
the  receiving  telephone,  so  that  this  undulating 
current,  coiling  round  the  core  of  the  magnet 
in  the  receiver,  attracts  and  repels  the  iron  of 
the  diaphragm  in  it,  and  it  vibrates  just  as 
the  transmitter  diaphragm  did  when  spoken 
into;  the  undulating  current  is  translated 
by  it  into  words  and  sentences  that  have  all 
the  peculiarities  of  the  original.  And  so  when 
speaking  into  a  telephone  your  voice  is  converted 
into  undulations  or  waves  in  an  electric  current 
conveyed  with  incredible  swiftness  to  the 
receiving  instrument,  and  these  are  translated 
back  into  the  vibrations  that  produce  speech. 
This  is  really  what  takes  place  when  you  talk 
over  a  toy  telephone  made  by  a  string  stretched 
between  the  two  tin  mouth-pieces  held  at  oppo- 
186 


LONG-DISTANCE  TELEPHONY 

site  sides  of  the  room,  with  the  difference 
that  in  the  telephone  the  vibrations  are  carried 
electrically,  while  the  toy  carries  them  mechanic- 
ally and  not  nearly  so  perfectly. 

For  once  the  world  realised  immediately  the 
importance  of  a  revolutionising  invention,  and 
telephone  stations  soon  began  to  be  established 
in  the  large  cities.  Quicker  than  the  telegraph, 
for  there  was  no  need  of  an  operator  to  translate 
the  message,  and  more  accurate,  for  if  spoken 
clearly  the  words  could  be  as  clearly  understood, 
the  telephone  service  spread  rapidly.  Lines 
stretched  farther  and  farther  out  from  the 
central  stations  in  the  cities  as  improvements 
were  invented,  until  the  outlying  wires  of  one 
town  reached  the  outstretched  lines  of  another, 
and  then  communication  between  town  and 
town  was  established.  Then  two  distant  cities 
talked  to  each  other  through  an  intermediate 
town,  and  long-distance  telephony  was  es- 
tablished. To-day  special  lines  are  built  to 
carry  long-distance  messages  from  one  great 
city  to  another,  and  these  direct  lines  are  used 
entirely  except  when  storms  break  through  or 
the  rush  of  business  makes  the  roundabout 
route  through  intermediate  cities  necessary. 

As  the  nerves  reaching  from  your  finger-tips, 
from  your  ears,  your  eyes,  and  every  portion 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

of  your  body  come  to  a  focus  in  your  brain 
and  carry  information  to  it  about  the  things 
you  taste,  see,  hear,  feel,  and  smell,  so  the 
wires  of  a  telephone  system  come  together  at 
the  central  station.  And  as  it  is  necessary  for 
your  right  hand  to  communicate  with  your 
left  through  your  brain,  so  it  is  necessary  for 
one  telephone  subscriber  to  connect  through 
the  central  station  with  another  subscriber. 

The  telephone  has  become  a  necessity  of 
modern  life,  so  that  if  through  some  means 
all  the  systems  were  destroyed  business  would 
be,  for  a  time  at  least,  paralysed.  It  is  the 
perfection  of  the  devices  for  connecting  one 
subscriber  with  another,  and  for  despatching  the 
vast  number  of  messages  and  calls  at  "central, " 
that  make  modern  telephony  possible. 

To  handle  the  great  number  of  spoken 
messages  that  are  sent  over  the  telephone  wires 
of  a  great  city  it  is  necessary  to  divide  the 
territory  into  districts,  which  vary  in  size 
according  to  the  number  of  subscribers  in  them. 
Where  the  telephones  are  thickly  installed  the 
districts  are  smaller  than  in  sections  that  are 
more  sparsely  settled. 

Then  all  the  telephone  wires  of  a  certain 
district  converge  at  a  central  station,  and 
each  pair  of  wires  is  connected  with  its 
188 


LONG-DISTANCE  TELEPHONY 

own  particular  switch  at  the  switchboard  of 
the  station.  That  is  simple  enough;  but 
when  you  come  to  consider  that  every  sub- 
scriber must  be  so  connected  that  he  can  be 
put  into  communication  with  every  other 
subscriber,  not  only  in  his  own  section  but  also 
with  every  subscriber  throughout  the  city,  it 
will  be  seen  that  the  switchboard  at  central  is 
as  marvellous  as  it  is  complicated.  Some  of 
the  busy  stations  in  New  York  have  to  take 
care  of  6,000  or  more  subscribers  and  10,000  tele- 
phone instruments,  while  the  city  proper  is 
criss-crossed  with  more  than  60,000  lines  bear- 
ing messages  from  more  than  100,000  "  'phones." 
Just  think  of  the  babel  entering  the  branch  cen- 
trals that  has  to  be  straightened  out  and  each 
separate  series  of  voice  undulations  sent  on  its 
proper  way,  to  be  translated  into  speech  again 
and  poured  into  the  proper  ear.  It  is  no  wonder, 
then,  that  it  has  been  found  necessary  to  es- 
tablish a  school  for  telephone  girls  where  they 
can  be  taught  how  to  untangle  the  snarl  and 
handle  the  vast,  complicated  system.  In  these 
schools  the  operators  go  through  a  regular 
course  lasting  a  month.  They  listen  to  lectures 
and  work  out  the  instructions  given  them  at  a 
practice  switchboard  that  is  exactly  like  the 
service  switchboard,  except  that  the  wires  do 
189 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

not  go  outside  of  the  building,  but  connect 
with  the  instructor's  desk;  the  instructor  calls 
up  the  pupils  and  sends  messages  in  just  the 
same  way  that  the  subscribers  call  "central"  in 
the  regular  service. 

At  the  terminal  station  of  a  great  railroad, 
in  the  midst  of  a  network  of  shining  rails, 
stands  the  switchman's  tower.  By  means  of 
steel  levers  the  man  in  his  tower  can  throw 
his  different  switches  and  open  one  track  to 
a  train  and  close  another ;  by  means  of  various 
signals  the  switchman  can  tell  if  any  given  line 
is  clear  or  if  his  levers  do  their  work  properly. 

A  telephone  system  may  be  likened,  in  a 
measure,  to  a  complicated  railroad  line:  the 
trunk  wires  to  subscribers  are  like  the  tracks 
of  the  railroad,  and  the  central  station  may  be 
compared  to  the  switch  tower,  while  the 
central  operators  are  like  the  switchmen.  It 
is  the  central  girls'  business  to  see  that  con- 
nections are  made  quickly  and  correctly,  that  no 
lines  are  tied  up  unnecessarily,  that  messages 
are  properly  charged  to  the  right  persons, 
that  in  case  of  a  break  in  a  line  the  messages 
are  switched  round  the  trouble,  and  above  all 
that  there  shall  be  no  delay. 

When  you  take  your  receiver  off  the  hook 
a  tiny  electric  bulb  glows  opposite  the  brass - 
190 


"CENTRAL"    MAKING   CONNECTIONS 

The  front  of  a  small  section  of  a  central-station  switchboard.  Each  dot 
on  the  face  of  the  blackboard  is  a  subscriber's  connection.  The 
cords  connect  one  subscriber  with  another.  The  switches  throwing 
in  the  operator's  '"phone,"  and  the  pilot  lamps  showing  when  a 
subscriber  wishes  a  connection,  are  set  in  the  table  or  shelf  before  her. 


LONG-DISTANCE  TELEPHONY 

lined  hole  that  is  marked  with  your  number  on 
the  switchboard  of  your  central,  and  the  tele- 
phone girl  knows  that  you  are  ready  to  send  in 
a  call — the  flash  of  the  little  light  is  a  signal  to 
her  that  you  want  to  be  connected  with  some 
other  subscriber.  Whereupon,  she  inserts  in 
your  connection  a  brass  plug  to  which  a  flexi- 
ble wire  is  attached,  and  then  opens  a  little 
lever  which  connects  her  with  your  circuit. 
Then  she  speaks  into  a  kind  of  inverted 
horn  which  projects  from  a  transmitter  that 
hangs  round  her  neck  and  asks:  "Number, 
please?"  You  answer  with  the  number,  which 
she  hears  through  the/ receiver  strapped  to  her 
head  and  ear.  After  repeating  the  number  the 
"hello"  girl  proceeds  to  make  the  connection. 
If  the  number  required  is  in  the  same  section 
of  the  city  she  simply  reaches  for  the  hole  or  con- 
nection which  corresponds  with  it,  with  another 
brass  plug,  the  twin  of  the  one  that  is  already 
inserted  in  your  connection,  and  touches  the 
brass  lining  with  the  plug.  All  the  connections 
to  each  central  station  are  so  arranged  and 
duplicated  that  they  are  within  the  reach  of 
each  operator.  If  the  line  is  already  "busy" 
a  slight  buzz  is  heard,  not  only  by  "central," 
but  by  the  subscriber  also  if  he  listens ;  "central " 
notifies  and  then  disconnects  you.  If  the  line 

IQI 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

is  clear  the  twin  plug  is  thrust  into  the  opening, 
and  at  the  same  time  "central"  presses  a  button, 
which  either  rings  a  bell  or  causes  a  drop  to 
fall  in  the  private  exchange  station  of  the  party 
you  wish  to  talk  to.  The  moment  the  new  con- 
nection is  made  and  the  party  you  wish  to  talk 
to  takes  off  the  receiver  from  his  hook,  a  second 
light  glows  beside  yours,  and  continues  to  glow 
as  long  as  the  receiver  remains  off.  The  two 
little  lamps  are  a  signal  to  "central"  that  the 
connection  is  properly  made  and  she  can  then 
attend  to  some  other  call.  When  your  con- 
versation is  finished  and  your  receivers  are 
hung  up  the  little  lights  go  out.  That  signals 
"central"  again,  and  she  withdraws  the  plug 
from  both  holes  and  pushes  another  button, 
which  connects  with  a  meter  made  like  a  bicycle 
cyclometer.  This  little  instrument  records  your 
call  (a  meter  is  provided  for  each  subscriber) 
and  at  the  same  time  lights  the  two  tiny  lamps 
again — a  signal  to  the  inspector,  if  one  happens 
to  be  watching,  that  the  call  is  properly  recorded. 
All  this  takes  long  to  read,  but  it  is  done  in 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  "Central's"  hands 
are  both  free,  and  by  long  practice  and  close 
attention  she  is  able  to  make  and  break  con- 
nections with  marvellous  rapidity,  it  being 
quite  an  ordinary  thing  for  an  operator  in  a 
192 


LONG-DISTANCE  TELEPHONY 

busy  section  to  make  ten  connections  a  minute, 
while  in  an  emergency  this  rate  is  greatly 
increased. 

The  call  of  one  subscriber  for  another  number 
in  the  same  section,  as  described  above — for 
instance,  the  call  of  4341  Eighteenth  Street  for 
2165  Eighteenth  Street — is  the  easiest  connec- 
tion that  "central"  has  to  make. 

As  it  is  impossible  for  each  branch  exchange 
to  be  connected  with  every  individual  line  in 
a  great  city,  when  a  subscriber  of  one  exchange 
wishes  to  talk  with  a  subscriber  of  another,  two 
central  operators  are  required  to  make  the 
connection.  If  No.  4341  Eighteenth  Street  wants 
to  talk  to  1748  Cortlandt  Street,  for  instance, 
the  Eighteenth  Street  central  who  gets  the  4341 
call  makes  a  connection  with  the  operator  at 
Cortlandt  Street  and  asks  for  No.  1748.  The 
Cortlandt  Street  operator  goes  through  the 
operation  of  testing  to  see  if  1748  is  busy,  and  if 
not  she  assigns  a  wire  connecting  the  two  ex- 
changes, whereupon  in  Eighteenth  Street  one 
plug  is  put  in  4341  switch  hole;  the  twin  plug  is 
put  into  the  switch  hole  connecting  with  the  wire 
to  Cortlandt  Street;  at  Cortlandt  Street  the 
same  thing  is  done  with  No.  1748  pair  of  plugs. 
The  lights  glow  in  both  exchanges,  notifying 
the  operators  when  the  conversation  is  begun 
193 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

and  ended,  and  the  operator  of  Eighteenth 
Street  "central"  makes  the  record  in  the  same 
way  as  she  does  when  both  numbers  are  in 
her  own  district. 

Besides  the  calls  for  numbers  within  the 
cities  there  are  the  out-of-town  calls.  In  this 
case  central  simply  makes  connection  with 
"Long  Distance,"  which  is  a  separate  company, 
though  allied  with  the  city  companies.  "Long 
Distance"  makes  the  connection  in  much  the 
same  way  as  the  branch  city  exchanges.  As  the 
charges  for  long-distance  calls  depend  on  the 
length  of  the  conversation,  so  the  connection 
is  made  by  an  operator  whose  business  it  is  to 
make  a  record  of  the  length  in  minutes  of  the 
conversation  and  the  place  with  which  the 
city  subscriber  is  connected.  An  automatic 
time  stamp  accomplishes  this  without  possi- 
bility of  error. 

Sometimes  the  calls  come  from  a  pay  station, 
in  which  case  a  record  must  be  kept  of  the  time 
occupied.  This  kind  of  call  is  indicated  by  the 
glow  of  a  red  light  instead  of  a  white  one,  and 
so  "central"  is  warned  to  keep  track,  and  the 
supervisors  or  monitors  who  constantly  pass 
to  and  fro  can  note  the  kind  of  calls  that  come 
in,  and  so  keep  tab  on  the  operators. 

Other  coloured  lights  indicate  that  the  chief 
194 


1    UNIVERSITY  ] 


LONG-DISTANCE  TELEPHONY 

operator  wishes  to  send  out  a  general  order 
and  wishes  all  operators  to  listen.  Another 
indicates  that  there  is  trouble  somewhere  on 
the  line  which  needs  the  attention  of  the  wire 
chief  and  repair  department. 

The  switchboards  themselves  are  made  of 
hard,  black  rubber,  and  are  honeycombed  with 
innumerable  holes,  each  of  which  is  connected 
with  a  subscriber.  Below  the  switchboard  is  a 
broad  shelf  in  which  are  set  the  miniature 
lamps  and  from  which  project  the  brass  plugs 
in  rows.  The  flexible  cords  containing  the 
connecting  wires  are  weighted  and  hang  below, 
so  that  when  a  plug  is  pulled  out  of  a  socket 
and  dropped  it  slides  back  automatically  to  its 
proper  place,  ready  for  use. 

Many  subscribers  nowadays  have  their  own 
private  exchanges  and  several  lines  running 
to  central.  Perhaps  No.  4341  Eighteenth  Street, 
for  instance,  has  4342  and  4344  as  well.  This 
in  indicated  on  the  switchboard  by  a  line  of 
red  or  white  drawn  under  the  three  switch- 
holes,  so  that  central,  finding  one  line  busy,  may 
be  able  to  make  connection  with  one  of  the 
other  two,  the  line  underneath  showing  at  a 
glance  which  numbers  belong  to  that  particular 
subscriber. 

If  a  subscriber  is  away  temporarily,  a  plug  of 
'95 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

one  colour  is  inserted  in  his  socket,  or  if  he  is 
behind  in  his  payments  to  the  company  a  plug 
of  another  colour  is  put  in,  and  if  the  service  to 
his  house  is  discontinued  still  another  plug 
notifies  the  operator  of  the  fact,  and  it  remains 
there  until  that  number  is  assigned  to  a  new 
subscriber. 

The  operators  sit  before  the  switchboard  in 
high  swivel  chairs  in  a  long  row,  with  their 
backs  to  the  centre  of  the  room. 

From  the  rear  it  looks  as  if  they  were  weaving 
some  intricate  fabric  that  unravels  as  fast  as  it 
is  woven.  Their  hands  move  almost  faster 
than  the  eye  can  follow,  and  the  patterns  made 
by  the  criss-crossed  cords  of  the  connecting 
plugs  are  constantly  changing,  varying  from 
minute  to  minute  as  the  colours  in  a  kaleido- 
scope form  new  designs  with  every  turn  of 
the  handle. 

Into  the  exchange  pour  all  the  throbbing 
messages  of  a  great  city.  Business  propositions, 
political  deals,  scientific  talks,  and  words  of  com- 
fort to  the  troubled,  cross  and  recross  each  other 
over  the  black  switchboard.  The  wonder  is  that 
each  message  reaches  the  ear  it  was  meant 
for,  and  that  all  complications,  no  matter  how 
knotty,  are  immediately  unravelled. 

In  the  cities  the  telephone  is  a  necessity. 
196 


gl 


I 


^TBRA 

Of  THE 

(   UNIVERSITY  ) 

OF 


LONG-DISTANCE  TELEPHONY 

Business  engagements  are  made  and  contracts 
consummated ;  brokers  keep  in  touch  with  their 
associates  on  the  floors  of  the  exchanges;  the 
patrolmen  of  the  police  force  keep  their  chief 
informed  of  their  movements  and  the  state  of 
the  districts  under  their  care;  alarms  of  fire 
are  telephoned  to  the  fire-engine  houses,  and 
calls  for  ambulances  bring  the  swift  wagons  on 
their  errands  of  mercy ;  even  wreckers  telephone 
to  their  divers  on  the  bottom  of  the  bay,  and 
undulating  electrical  messages  travel  to  the 
tops  of  towering  sky-scrapers. 

In  Europe  it  is  possible  to  hear  the  latest 
opera  by  paying  a  small  fee  and  putting  a 
receiver  to  your  ear,  and  so  also  may  lazy 
people  and  invalids  hear  the  latest  news  with- 
out getting  out  of  bed. 

The  farmers  of  the  West  and  in  eastern 
States,  too,  have  learned  to  use  the  barbed 
wire  that  fences  off  their  fields  as  a  means  of 
communicating  with  one  another  and  with  dis- 
tant parts  of  their  own  property. 

Mr.  Pupin  has  invented  an  apparatus  by 
which  he  hopes  to  greatly  extend  the  distance 
over  which  men  may  talk,  and  it  has  even  been 
suggested  that  Uncle  Sam  and  John  Bull  may 
in  the  future  swap  stories  over  a  transatlantic 
telephone  line. 

197 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

The  marvels  accomplished  suggest  the  possi- 
ble marvels  to  come.  Automatic  exchanges, 
whereby  the  central  telephone  operator  is  done 
away  with,  is  one  of  the  things  that  inventors 
are  now  at  work  on. 

The  one  thing  that  prevents  an  unlimited 
use  of  the  telephone  is  the  expensive  wires 
and  the  still  more  expensive  work  of  putting 
them  underground  or  stringing  them  overhead. 
So  the  capping  of  the  climax  of  the  wonders  of 
the  telephone  would  be  wireless  telephony, 
each  instrument  being  so  attuned  that  the 
undulations  would  respond  only  to  the  corre- 
sponding instrument.  This  is  one  of  the  prob- 
lems that  inventors  are  even  now  working 
upon,  and  it  may  be  that  wireless  telephones 
will  be  in  actual  operation  not  many  years 
after  this  appears  in  print. 


198 


A  MACHINE  THAT  THINKS 


LAWSTON  TYPE-SETTER  KEYBOARD 

As  each  key  is  pressed  a  corresponding  perforation  is  made  in  the  roll  of 

paper  shown  at  the  top  of  the  machine.     Each  perforation 

stands  for  a  character  or  a  space 


A  MACHINE  THAT  THINKS 

A  TYPESETTING  MACHINE  THAT  MAKES 
MATHEMATICAL  CALCULATIONS 

FOR  many  years  it  was  thought  impossible 
to  find  a  short  cut  from  author's 
manuscript  to  printing  press — that  is,  to 
substitute  a  machine  for  the  skilled  hands  that 
set  the  type  from  which  a  book  or  magazine  is 
printed.  Inventors  have  worked  at  this  problem, 
and  a  number  have  solved  it  in  various  ways. 
To  one  who  has  seen  the  slow  work  of  hand 
typesetting  as  the  compositor  builds  up  a 
long  column  of  metal  piece  by  piece,  letter  by 
letter,  picking  up  each  character  from  its 
allotted  space  in  the  case  and  placing  it  in  its 
proper  order  and  position,  and  then  realises 
that  much  of  the  printed  matter  he  sees  is  so 
produced,  the  wonder  is  how  the  enormous 
amount  of  it  is  ever  accomplished. 

In  a  page  of  this  size  there  are  more  than  a 
thousand  separate  pieces  of  type,  which,  if  set  by 
hand,  would  have  to  be  taken  one  by  one  and 
201 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

placed  in  the  compositor's  "stick";  then  when 
the  line  is  nearly  set  it  would  have  to  be  spaced 
out,  or  "justified,"  to  fill  out  the  line  exactly. 
Then  when  the  compositor's  "stick"  is  full,  or 
two  and  a  half  inches  have  been  set,  the  type  has 
to  be  taken  out  and  placed  in  a  long  channel, 
or  "galley."  Each  of  these  three  operations 
requires  considerable  time  and  close  applica- 
tion, and  with  each  change  there  is  the  possi- 
bility of  error.  It  is  a  long,  expensive  process. 

A  perfect  typesetting  machine  should  take 
the  place  of  the  hand  compositor,  setting  the 
type  letter  by  letter  automatically  in  proper 
order  at  a  maximum  speed  and  with  a  minimum 
chance  of  error. 

These  three  steps  of  hand  composition,  slow, 
expensive,  open  to  many  chances  of  mistake, 
have  been  covered  at  one  stride  at  five  times 
the  speed,  at  one-third  the  cost,  and  much 
more  accurately  by  a  machine  invented  by 
Mr.  Tolbert  Lanston. 

The  operator  of  the  Lanston  machine  sits  at 
a  keyboard,  much  like  a  typewriter  in  appear- 
ance, containing  every  character  in  common 
use  (225  in  all),  and  at  a  speed  limited  only  by 
his  dexterity  he  plays  on  the  keys  exactly  as 
a  typewriter  works  his  machine.  This  is  the  sum 
total  of  human  effort  expended.  The  machine 
202 


A  MACHINE  THAT 


does  all  the  rest  of  the  work;  makes  the  calcu- 
lations and  delivers  the  product  in  clean, 
shining  new  type,  each  piece  perfect,  each  in 
its  place,  each  line  of  exactly  the  right  length, 
and  each  space  between  the  words  mathe- 
matically equal  —  absolutely  "justified."  It  is 
practically  hand  composition  with  the  human 
possibility  of  error,  of  weariness,  of  inattention, 
of  ignorance,  eliminated,  and  all  accomplished 
with  a  celerity  that  is  astonishing. 

This  machine  is  a  type-casting  machine  as 
well  as  a  typesetter.  It  casts  the  type  (indi- 
vidual characters)  it  sets,  perfect  in  face  and 
body,  capable  of  being  used  in  hand  composition 
or  put  to  press  directly  from  the  machine  and 
printed  from. 

As  each  piece  of  type  is  separate,  alterations 
are  easily  made.  The  type  for  correction,  which 
the  machine  itself  casts  for  the  purpose  —  a 
lot  of  a's,  b's,  etc.  —  is  simply  substituted  for 
the  words  misspelled  or  incorrectly  used,  as 
in  hand  composition. 

The  Lanston  machine  is  composed  of  two 
parts,  the  keyboard  and  the  casting-setting 
machine.  The  keyboard  part  may  be  placed 
wherever  convenient,  away  from  noise  or  any- 
thing that  is  likely  to  distract  or  interrupt  the 
operator,  and  the  perforated  roll  of  paper  pro- 
203 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

duced  by  it  (which  governs  the  setting  machine) 
may  be  taken  away  as  fast  as  it  is  finished. 
In  the  setting-casting  machine  is  located  the 
brains.  The  five-inch  roll  of  paper,  perforated 
by  the  keyboard  machine  (a  hole  for  every 
letter) ,  gives  the  signal  by  means  of  compressed 
air  to  the  mechanism  that  puts  the  matrix  (or 
type  mould)  in  position  and  casts  the  type 
letter  by  letter,  each  character  following  the 
proper  sequence  as  marked  by  the  perforations 
of  the  paper  ribbon.  By  means  of  an  indicator 
scale  on  the  keyboard  the  operator  can  tell 
how  many  spaces  there  are  between  the  words 
of  the  line  and  the  remaining  space  to  be 
filled  out  to  make  the  line  the  proper  width. 
This  information  is  marked  by  perforations  on 
the  paper  ribbon  by  the  pressure  of  two  keys, 
and  when  the  ribbon  is  transferred  to  the 
casting  machine  these  space  perforations  so 
govern  the  casting  that  the  line  of  type  de- 
livered at  the  "galley"  complete  shall  be  of 
exactly  the  proper  length,  and  the  spaces 
between  the  words  be  equal  to  the  infini- 
tesimal fraction  of  an  inch. 

The     casting     machine     is     an     ingenious 

mechanism   of  many   complicated   parts.       In 

a  word,  the  melted  metal    (a  composition  of 

zinc  and   lead)  is  forced   into  a  mold  of    the 

204 


A   MACHINE   THAT   THINKS 

letter  to  be  cast.  Two  hundred  and  twenty- 
five  of  these  moulds  are  collected  in  a  steel 
frame  about  three  inches  square,  and  cool  water 
is  kept  circulating  about  them,  so  that  almost 
immediately  after  the  molten  metal  is  injected 
into  the  lines  and  dots  of  the  letter  cut  in  the 
mould  it  hardens  and  drops  into  its  slot,  a 
perfect  piece  of  type. 

All  this  is  accomplished  at  a  rate  of  four  or 
five  thousand  "ems"  per  hour  of  the  size  of 
type  used  on  this  page.  The  letter  M  is  the 
unit  of  measurement  when  the  amount  of  any 
piece  of  composition  is  to  be  estimated,  and  is 
written  "em." 

If  this  page  were  set  by  hand  (taking  a 
compositor  of  more  than  average  speed  as  a 
basis  for  figuring),  at  least  one  hour  of  steady 
work  would  be  required,  but  this  page  set  by 
the  Lanston  machine  (the  operator  being  of  the 
same  grade  as  the  hand  compositor)  would 
require  hardly  more  than  fifteen  minutes  from 
the  time  the  manuscript  was  put  into  the 
operator's  hands  to  the  delivery  complete  of 
the  newly  cast  type  in  galleys  ready  to  be 
made  up  into  pages,  if  the  process  were  carried 
on  continuously. 

This  marvellous  machine  is  capable  of  set- 
ting almost  any  size  of  type,  from  the  minute 
205 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

"agate"  to  and  including  "pica,"  a  letter  more 
than  one-eighth  of  an  inch  high,  and  a  line  of 
almost  any  desired  width,  the  change  from  one 
size  to  any  other  requiring  but  a  few  minutes. 
The  Lanston  machine  sets  up  tables  of  figures, 
poetry,  and  all  those  difficult  pieces  of  compo- 
sition that  so  try  the  patience  of  the  hand 
compositor. 

It  is  called  the  monotype  because  it  casts  and 
sets  up  the  type  piece  by  piece. 

Another  machine,  invented  by  Mergenthaler, 
practically  sets  up  the  moulds,  by  a  sort  of 
typewriter  arrangement,  for  a  line  at  a  time, 
and  then  a  casting  is  taken  of  a  whole  line  at 
once.  This  machine  is  used  much  in  news- 
paper offices,  where  the  cleverness  of  the  com- 
positor has  to  be  depended  upon  and  there 
is  little  or  no  time  for  corrections.  Several 
other  machines  set  the  regular  type  that  is 
made  in  type  foundries,  the  type  being  placed 
in  long  channels,  all  of  the  same  sort,  in  the 
same  grooves,  and  slipped  or  set  in  its  proper 
place  by  the  machine  operated  by  a  man  at 
the  keyboard.  These  machines  require  a  sep- 
arate mechanism  that  distributes  each  type  in 
its  proper  place  after  use,  or  else  a  separate 
compositor  must  be  employed  to  do  this  by 
hand.  The  machines  that  set  foundry  type, 
206 


WHERE  THE  "BRAINS"  ARE  LOCATED 

The  perforations  in  the  paper  ribbon  (shown  in  the  upper  left-hand  part  of 

the  picture)  govern  the  action  of  the  machine  so  that  the  proper 

characters  are  cast  in  their  proper  order,  and  also  the  spaces 

between  the  words 


or  THE 
UNIVERSITY 


A   MACHINE   THAT   THINKS 

moreover,  require  a  great  stock  of  it,  just  as 
many  hundred  pounds  of  expensive  type  are 
needed  for  hand  composition. 

Though  a  machine  has  been  invented  that 
will  put  an  author's  words  into  type,  no 
mechanism  has  yet  been  invented  that  will 
do  away  with  type  altogether.  It  is  one  of 
the  problems  still  to  be  solved. 


207 


HOW  HEAT  PRODUCES  COLD 
ARTIFICIAL  ICE-MAKING 


THE  TYPE  MOULDS 
Moulds  for  225  different  characters  are  contained  in  this  frame 


THE   FINISHED   PRODUCT 

As  the  type  is  cast  in  its  consecutive  order  it  is  passed  into  a  long  channel 

or  "galley,"  where  it  can  easily  be  broken  up  into  pages  or  any 

form  desired.     Corrections  are  usually  made  when 

the  type  is  in  this  form 


HOW  HEAT   PRODUCES   COLD 
ARTIFICIAL  ICE-MAKING 


midsummers  day  a  fleet  of  United 
States  war-ships  were  lying  at  anchor  in 
Guantanamo  Bay,  on  the  southern  coast  of 
Cuba.  The  sky  was  cloudless,  and  the  tropic 
sun  shone  so  fiercely  on  the  decks  that  the  bare- 
footed Jackies  had  to  cross  the  unshaded  spots 
on  the  jump  to  save  their  feet. 

An  hour  before  the  quavering  mess  -  call 
sounded  for  the  midday  meal,  when  the  sun 
was  shining  almost,  perpendicularly,  a  boat's 
crew  from  one  of  th£  cruisers  were  sent  over 
to  the  supply  -  ship  for  a  load  of  beef.  Not  a 
breath  was  stirring,  the  smooth  surface  of  the 
bay  reflected  the  brazen  sun  like  a  mirror, 
and  it  seemed  to  the  oarsmen  that  the  salt 
water  would  scald  them  if  they  should  touch  it. 
Only  a  few  hundred  yards  separated  the  two 
vessels,  yet  the  heat  seemed  almost  beyond 
endurance,  and  the  shade  cast  by  the  tall  steel 
sides  of  the  supply  -  steamer,  when  the  boat 
reached  it,  was  as  comforting  as  a  cool  drink 
211 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

to  a  thirsty  man.  The  oars  were  shipped,  and 
one  man  was  left  to  fend  off  the  boat  while  the 
others  clambered  up  the  swaying  rope-ladder, 
crossed  the  scorching  decks  on  the  run,  and 
went  below.  In  two  minutes  they  were  in  the 
hold  of  the  refrigerator -ship,  gathering  the 
frost  from  the  frigid  cooling  -  pipes  and  snow- 
balling each  other,  while  the  boat-keeper  out- 
side of  the  three-eighth-inch  steel  plating  was 
fanning  himself  with  his  hat,  almost  dizzy  from 
the  quivering  heat-waves  that  danced  before 
his  eyes.  The  great  sides  of  beef,  hung  in  rows, 
were  frozen  as  hard  as  rock.  Even  after  the 
strip  of  water  had  been  crossed  on  the  return 
journey  and  the  meat  exposed  to  the  full,  un- 
obstructed glare  of  the  sun  the  cruiser's  mess- 
cooks  had  to  saw  off  their  portions,  and  the 
remainder  continued  hard  as  long  as  it  lasted. 
But  the  satisfaction  of  the  men  who  ate  that 
fresh  American  beef  cannot  be  told. 

Cream  from  a  famous  dairy  is  sent  to  par- 
ticular patrons  in  Paris,  France,  and  it  is  known 
that  in  one  instance, "at  least,  a  bottle  of  cream, 
having  failed  to  reach  the  person  to  whom  it 
was  consigned,  made  the  return  transatlantic 
voyage  and  was  received  in  New  York  three 
weeks  after  its  first  departure,  perfectly  sweet 
and  good.  Throughout  the  entire  journey  it 
212 


ARTIFICIAL  ICE-MAKING 

was  kept  at  freezing  temperature  by  artificial 
means.  These  are  but  two  striking  examples  of 
wonders  that  are  performed  every  day. 

Cold,  of  course,  is  but  the  absence  of  heat, 
and  so  refrigerating  machinery  is  designed  to 
extract  the  heat  from  whatever  substance  it 
is  desired  to  cool.  The  refrigerating  agent 
used  to  extract  the  heat  from  the  cold  chamber 
must  in  turn  have  the  heat  extracted  from  it, 
and  so  the  process  must  be  continuous. 

Water,  when  it  boils  and  turns  into  steam  or 
vapour,  is  heated  by  or  extracts  heat  from  the 
fire,  but  water  vapourises  at  a  high  temperature 
and  so  cannot  be  used  to  produce  cold.  Other 
fluids  are  much  more  volatile  and  evaporate 
much  more  easily.  Alcohol  when  spilt  on  the 
hand  dries  almost  instantly  and  leaves  a  feeling 
of  cold — the  warmth  of  the  hand  boils  the 
alcohol  and  turns  it  into  vapour,  and  in  doing  so 
extracts  the  heat  from  the  skin,  making  it  cold; 
now,  if  the  evaporated  alcohol  could  be  caught 
and  compressed  into  its  liquid  form  again  you 
would  have  a  refrigerating  machine. 

Alcohol  is  expensive  and  inflammable,  and 
many  other  volatile  substances  have  been  dis- 
carded for  the  one  or  the  other  reason.  Of  all 
the  fluids  that  have  been  tried,  ammonia  has 
been  found  to  work  most  satisfactorily ;  it  evap- 
213 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

orates  at  a  low  temperature,  is  non-inflammable, 
and    is  comparatively  cheap. 

The  hold  of  the  supply-ship  mentioned  at  the 
head  of  this  chapter  was  a  vast  refrigerator, 
but  no  ice  was  used  except  that  produced 
mechanically  by  the  power  in  the  ship.  To 
produce  the  cold  in  the  hold  of  the  ship  it  was 
necessary  to  extract  the  heat  in  it;  to  accomplish 
this,  coils  ran  round  the  space  filled  with  cold 
brine,  which,  as  it  grew  warm,  drew  the  heat 
from  the  air.  The  brine  in  turn  circulated 
through  a  tank  containing  pipes  filled  with 
ammonia  vapour  which  extracted  the  heat 
from  it;  the  brine  then  was  ready  to  circulate 
through  the  coils  in  the  hold  again  and  extract 
more  heat.  The  heat  -  extracting  or  cooling 
power  of  the  ammonia  is  exerted  continually 
by  the  process  described  below.  Ammonia 
requires  heat  to  expand  and  turn  into  vapour, 
and  this  heat  it  extracts  from  the  substance 
surrounding  it.  In  this  marine  refrigerating 
machine  the  ammonia  got  the  heat  from  the 
brine  in  the  tank,  then  it  was  drawn  by  a  pump 
from  the  pipes  in  the  tank,  compressed  by 
a  power  compressor,  and  forced  into  a  second 
coil.  The  second  coil  is  called  a  condenser 
because  the  vapour  was  there  condensed  into  a 
fluid  again.  Over  the  pipes  of  the  condenser 
214 


ARTIFICIAL  ICE-MAKING 

cool  water  dripped  constantly  and  carried  off 
the  heat  in  the  ammonia  vapour  inside  the  coils 
and  so  condensed  it  into  a  fluid  again — just  as 
cold  condenses  steam  into  water.  The  com- 
pressor-pump then  forced  the  fluid  ammonia 
through  a  small  pipe  from  the  condenser  coils 
to  the  cooling  coils  in  the  tank  of  brine.  The 
pipes  of  the  cooling  coils  are  much  larger  than 
those  of  the  condenser,  and  as  the  fluid  ammonia 
is  forced  in  a  fine  spray  into  these  large  pipes 
and  the  pressure  is  relieved  it  expands  or  boils 
into  the  larger  volume  of  vapour  and  in  so  doing 
extracts  heat  from  the  brine.  The  pump 
draws  the  heated  vapour  out,  the  compressor 
makes  it  dense,  and  the  coils  over  which  the  cool 
water  flows  condenses  it  into  fluid  again,  and 
so  the  circuit  continues  —  through  cooler, 
pump,  compressor,  and  condenser,  back  into  the 
cooling-tank. 

In  the  meantime,  the  cold  brine  is  being 
pumped  through  the  pipes  in  the  hold  of  the 
ship,  where  it  extracts  the  heat  from  the  air 
and  the  rows  of  sides  of  beef  and  then  returns  to 
the  cooling  -  tank.  In  the  refrigerating  plant, 
then,  of  the  supply-ship,  there  were  two  heat- 
extracting  circuits,  one  of  ammonia  and  the 
other  of  brine.  Brine  is  used  because  it  freezes 
at  a  very  low  temperature  and  continues  to 
215 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

flow  when  unsalted  water  would  be  frozen 
solid.  The  ammonia  is  not  used  direct  in  the 
pipes  in  a  big  space  like  the  hold  of  a  ship, 
because  so  much  of  it  would  be  required,  and 
then  there  is  always  danger  of  the  exposed 
pipes  being  broken  and  the  dangerous  fumes 
released. 

Opposite  as  it  may  seem,  heat  is  required  to 
produce  cold — for  steam  is  necessary  to  drive 
the  compressor  and  pump  of  a  refrigerating 
plant,  and  fire  of  some  sort  is  necessary  to  make 
steam. 

The  first  artificial  refrigerating  machines 
produced  cold  by  compressing  and  expanding 
air,  the  compressed  air  containing  the  heat  being 
cooled  by  jets  of  cool  water  spirted  into  the 
cylinder  containing  it,  then  the  compressed  air 
was  released  or  expanded  into  a  larger  chamber 
and  thereby  extracted  the  heat  from  brine  or 
whatever  substance  surrounded  it. 

It  is  in  the  making  of  ice,  however,  that 
refrigerating  machinery  accomplishes  its  most 
surprising  results.  It  was  said  in  the  writer's 
hearing  recently  that  natural  ice  costs  about  as 
much  when  it  was  delivered  at  the  docks  or 
freight-yards  of  the  large  cities  of  the  North 
as  the  product  of  the  ice-machine.  Of  course, 
the  manufactured  ice  is  produced  near  the  spot 
216 


ARTIFICIAL  ICE-MAKING 

where  it  is  consumed,  and  there  is  little  loss 
through  melting  while  it  is  being  stored  or 
transported,  as  in  the  case  of  the  natural  product. 

There  are  two  ways  of  making  ice — or,  rather, 
two  methods  using  the  same  principle. 

In  the  can  system,  a  series  of  galvanized-iron 
cans  about  three  and  a  half  feet  deep,  eight 
inches  wide,  by  two  and  a  half  feet  long  are 
suspended  or  rested  in  great  tanks  of  brine 
connecting  with  the  cooling-tank  through  which 
the  pipes  containing  the  ammonia  vapour  circu- 
lates. The  vapour  draws  the  heat  from  the  brine, 
and  the  brine,  which  is  kept  moving  constantly, 
in  turn  extracts  the  heat  from  the  distilled 
water  in  the  cans.  While  this  method  produces 
ice  quickly,  it  is  difficult  to  get  ice  of  perfect 
clearness  and  purity,  because  the  water  in  the 
can  freezes  on  the  sides,  gradually  getting 
thicker,  retaining  and  concentrating  in  the 
centre  any  impurities  that  may  be  in  the 
water.  The  finished  cake,  therefore,  almost 
always  has  a  white  or  cloudy  appearance  in 
the  centre,  and  is  frequently  discolored. 

In  an  ice-plant  operated  on  the  can  system  a 
great  many  blocks  are  freezing  at  once — in  fact, 
the  whole  floor  of  a  great  room  is  honeycombed 
with  trap-doors,  a  door  for  each  can.  The 
freezing  is  done  in  rotation,  so  that  one  group 
217 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

of  cans  is  being  emptied  of  their  blocks  of  ice 
while  others  are  still  in  process  of  congealing, 
while  still  others  are  being  filled  with  fresh 
water.  When  the  freezing  is  complete,  jets  of 
steam  or  quick  immersion  of  the  can  in  hot 
water  releases  the  cake  and  the  can  is  ready 
for  another  charge. 

The  plate  system  of  artificial  ice-making  does 
away  with  the  discoloration  and  the  cloudiness, 
because  the  water  containing  the  impurities  or 
the  air-bubbles  is  not  frozen,  but  is  drawn  off 
and  discarded. 

In  the  plate  system,  great  permanent  tanks 
six  feet  deep  and  eight  to  twelve  feet  wide  and 
of  varying  lengths  are  used.  These  tanks  con- 
tain the  clean,  fresh  water  that  is  to  be  frozen 
into  great  slabs  of  ice.  Into  the  tanks  are 
sunk  flat  coils  of  pipe  covered  with  smooth, 
metal  plates  on  either  side,  and  it  is  through 
these  pipes  that  the  ammonia  vapour  flows. 
The  plates  with  the  coils  of  pipe  between  them 
fit  in  the  tank  transversely,  partitioning  it  off 
into  narrow  cells  six  feet  deep,  about  twenty- 
two  inches  wide,  and  eight  or  ten  feet  long. 
In  operation,  the  ammonia  vapour  flows  through 
the  pipes,  chilling  the  plates  and  freezing  the 
water  so  that  a  gradually  thickening  film  of 
ice  adheres  to  each  side  of  each  set  of  plates. 
218 


ARTIFICIAL  ICE-MAKING 

As  the  ice  gets  thicker  the  unfrozen  water 
between  the  slabs  containing  the  impurities  and 
air-bubbles  gets  narrower.  When  the  ice  on 
the  plates  is  eight  or  ten  inches  thick  very 
little  of  the  unfrozen  water  remains  between 
the  great  cakes,  but  it  contains  practically  all 
the  impurities.  When  the  ice  on  the  plates  is 
thick  enough,  the  ammonia  vapour  is  turned  off 
and  steam  forced  through  the  pipes  so  the  cakes 
come  off  readily,  or  else  plates,  cakes,  and  all 
are  hoisted  out  of  the  tank  and  the  ice  melted 
off.  The  ice,  clear  and  perfect,  is  then  sawed  into 
convenient  sizes  and  shipped  to  consumers  or 
stored  for  future  use.  Sometimes  the  plates  or 
partitions  are  permanent,  and,  with  the  coils 
of  pipes  beteen  them,  cold  brine  is  circulated, 
but  in  either  case  the  two  surfaces  of  ice  do  not 
come  together,  there  being  always  a  film  of 
water  between. 

Still  another  method  produces  ice  by  forcing 
the  clean  water  in  extremely  fine  spray  into  a 
reservoir  from  which  the  air  has  been  exhausted 
— into  a  vacuum,  in  other  words;  the  spray 
condenses  in  the  form  of  tiny  particles  of  ice, 
which  are  attached  to  the  walls  of  the  reservoir. 
The  ice  grows  thicker  as  a  carpet  of  snow  in- 
creases, one  particle  falling  on  and  freezing  to 
the  others  until  the  coating  has  reached  the 
219 


STORIES  OF  INVENTORS 

required  thickness,  when  it  is  loosened  and  cut 
up  in  cakes  of  convenient  size.  The  vacuum 
ice  is  of  marble-like  whiteness  and  appearance, 
but  is  perfectly  pure,  and  it  is  said  to  be  quite 
as  hard. 

More  and  more  artificial  ice  is  being  used, 
even  in  localities  where  ice  is  formed  naturally 
during  parts  of  the  year. 

Many  of  the  modern  hotels  are  equipped 
with  refrigerating  plants  where  they  make  their 
own  ice,  cool  their  own  storage-rooms,  freeze  the 
water  in  glass  carafes  for  the  use  of  their  guests, 
and  even  cool  the  air  that  is  circulated  through 
the  ventilating  system  in  hot  weather.  In 
many  large  apartment-houses  the  refrigerators 
built  in  the  various  separate  suites  are  kept 
at  a  freezing  temperature  by  pipes  leading  to 
a  refrigerating  plant  in  the  cellar.  The  con- 
venience and  neatness  of  this  plan  over  the 
method  of  carrying  dripping  cakes  from  floor  to 
floor  in  a  dumb-waiter  is  evident. 

Another  use  of  refrigerating  plants  that  is 
greatly  appreciated  is  the  making  of  artificial 
ice  for  skating-rinks.  An  artificial  ice  skating- 
rink  is  simply  an  ice  machine  on  a  grand  scale — 
the  ice  being  made  in  a  great,  thin,  flat  ca^ke. 
Through  the  shallow  tanks  containing  the  fresh 
water  coils  of  pipe  through  which  flows  the 
220 


ARTIFICIAL  ICE-MAKING 

ammonia  vapour  or  the  cold  brine  are  run  from 
end  to  end  or  from  side  to  side  so  that  the  whole 
bottom  of  the  tank  is  gridironed  with  pipes, 
the  water  covering  the  pipes  is  speedily  frozen, 
and  a  smooth  surface  formed.  When  the 
skaters  cut  up  the  surface  it  is  flooded  and 
frozen  over  again. 

So  efficient  and  common  have  refrigerating 
plants  become  that  artificially  cooled  water  is 
on  tap  in  many  public  places  in  the  great  cities. 
Theatres  are  cooled  during  hot  weather  by  a 
portion  of  the  same  machinery  that  supplies 
the  heat  in  winter,  and  it  is  not  improbable  that 
every  large  establishment,  private  or  public, 
will  in  the  near  future  have  its  own  refrigerating 
plant. 

Inventors  are  now  at  work  on  cold-air  stoves 
that  draw  in  warm  air,  extract  the  heat  from 
it,  and  deliver  it  purified  and  cooled  by  many 
degrees. 

Even  the  people  of  this  generation,  therefore, 
may  expect  to  see  their  furnaces  turned  into 
cooling  machines  in  summer.  Then  the  ice- 
man will  cease  from  troubling  and  the  ice-cart 

be  at  rest- 


221 


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